Every Moment Holy...

This poem was inspired by the title of the book below,

given to me by some dear friends following the loss of my beloved sister Lucy.

It is filled with profound and comforting liturgies of

faith and encouragement 

This is not some hum-drum duty drawn to vex man’s days with strife

Nor simply four-season-beauty doomed to earth’s titanic urn...

This is more than days tugged slowly from the wounds of love and life

This is every moment holy laden with so much to learn...

This is not some hum-drum duty drawn to vex man’s days with strife

Nor simply four-season-beauty doomed to earth’s titanic urn

This is more than days tugged slowly from the wounds of love and life

This is every moment holy laden with so much to learn

This is more than lilt of hours, bent with what no one can snare

Or a door to Bygone’s bowers that no squire can bolt or bar

More than both lofty and lowly, climbing Time’s ethereal stair

This is every moment holy, no matter who-where we are

This is more than Yore’s momentum tripping through rooms of the heart

More than dust-to-dust’s decorum or satire’s mean comedy

More than skin-graft sagging slowly on frames fated from the start

This is every moment holy like notes in life’s symphony

Every moment mercy-measured, sparkling from a fount of grace

Every-moment to be treasured like a jewel of great worth

Every moment like a flicker on a wick we cannot trace

Or like tincture in a picture, we cannot behold on earth

This is more than hope grope-groping at straws of positive thought

Or Destiny’s downward sloping to be swallowed up by sod

This is more than laughter, lament, more than favors trouble-fraught

Holy, holy, every moment drawing mortal back to God

© Janet Martin

Psalm 144:4
Man is like a breath; 

his days are like a passing shadow.

Psalm 39:5
You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, 

and my lifetime as nothing before You. 

Truly each man at his best exists as but a breath.

 Selah

1 Peter 1:24
For, “All flesh is like grass, 

and all its glory like the flowers of the field;

 the grass withers and the flowers fall,