But The Passing Through...

PAD Challenge 17: For today’s prompt, write a broken poem. 

Because we are prone to groaning 'whys'

where brokenness abounds

it is vital we fix our eyes

On the Healer of wounds

For He bore on our behalf

More than man understands

And wears love's sacred autograph

on out-stretched, nail-scarred hands

(for this is but the Passing Through

Before death's chilling seal

Transports us with that last gasp to 

all Heaven waits to heal)

...ah, who then can dare to afford

the everlasting cost

Of disregarding Christ the Lord

to be counted among the lost!

 

Then we of grin-groan-grit nuance

Of love’s laughter and tears

Of hope’s Immortal pursuance

While moments meld to years

‘Neath sky wide heath of dawn to dusk

Where seed of deed bears fruit

And scatters in its wake the husk

Of touch and taste’s pursuit

Where not one can undo the done

Or wipe spent seasons clean

Or force Belief or rain or sun

Or turn the fallow green

Then we of wonder, whim and wit

And ways common to man

Should entrust dust-formed grin-groan-grit

To Hope’s Incarnate Plan

…and not forget what seems so wrong

Or of small consequence

Or too impossible or long

Or without recompense

Is but part of The Passing Through

Before the Curtain Call

That will unveil Love’s Author who

Bore witness to it all

Who needs not to interrogate

(too late then to appeal)

As He makes known His own, the wait

Worth all one glimpse will heal

And banish from the mortal mind

Each agonizing ‘why’

Where hurt and hope is left behind

In the sweet by and by

© Janet Martin