Dear LORD, I need to sleep. The week was long.
My heart is heavy. I can hear no song.
The children struggle. Even unto death.
The death of hope, of heart, of drawing breath.
I understand their pain. I do. I know
The chill of bleakness, ever-falling snow
That drifts between the eyes, trapping the mind
'neath waves of icy white that freeze and blind.
I try to answer them with words of hope,
Of love, of hanging on, the means to cope
With disappointment, heartbreak, loneliness;
To give assurance of Creator's YES.
For we are who they look to every day.
LORD, give the words they need to hear us say.
YOU ARE READING
bedtime habits
RandomThis was meant to be a single poem. But there seems to be more coming.
