Of Yokes and Hope

Dawn splays a madrigal of hope

Before our gaze, on eastern slope

The yoke of midnight disappears

As call of life and love endears

To us the soil beneath our feet

Where we embrace its bittersweet

Fixing our sights not on the sky

But on the One who hears our cry

…for oh, how bleak would be our want

Should we be chained to season-taunt

And nothing more, save for the thought

Of nothingness where once we sought

With eager eye the lust for life

Before the yoke of toil and strife

And heartache common unto man

Drew us to seek a higher hand

So we cling with hope’s pleading prayer

To He who gilds the waking air

With more than gold or crimson trace

But with assurances of grace

He bids us Come, lest we despair

By what we think we cannot bear

And so we fix our gaze upon

The hand that splays the sky with dawn

© Janet Martin

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matt 11: 28-30

God Hath Not Promised Skies Always Blue