Thursday, August 3, 2017

My Prayer-book

My prayer book is the Bible, oh,
A rose, or wind-tossed trees
My prayer book is the trial’s blow
Sent to bend stubborn knees

My prayer book is a daughter, far
away or at my side
A son grown taller than his father
Rife with dreamer's pride

My prayer book is my mother, ah
For oft her head was bowed
As she surrendered to the law
Of what God's love allowed

My prayer book is the Vast Unknown
It teaches me to trust
While laughter, longing, grin and groan
Tunes its Cardinal Must

My prayer book is a baby-child
Innocence watching me
My prayer book is ‘maybes’ run wild
That thwart what I can see

My prayer book is the love I hold
The love I wish I had
The love that jars me with its gold
And weights me with its lead

My prayer book is the dark of night
Silence can wail with fear
My prayer book is the Morning Light
Kind proof that God is near

My prayer book is soft, whisper-bound
A Tome of death and birth
While thought turns pages without sound
God moves heaven and earth

© Janet Martin

1 comment:

  1. That is my book too! Did you know it bears the truth, even if one takes all the religion out?


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