A similar hurting in the hearts of so many,
yet for each that must endure it, it feels so much more.
Wives and mothers hoping for the phone to ring,
husbands and fathers dreading that the voice,
on the other end, is not one they recognise.
Father on my knees I attempt to feel their pain,
to have compassion for those lost, and for those that are lost.
Yet I know I cannot feel their pain, I do not want
their loss, to know my brother is gone.
But still I wish it was my loss not theirs, for comfort
and strength are to those that believe in these words:
I am the resurrection and the life.
He who believes in me will live, even though he dies
Such a devastating sight when only 32 inches wide,
how much greater pain to breath the settling dust, to hear sirens
or to come face to face with a tear stretched face.
And how greater still to comprehend; the life without a father,
the meals without the mother, the birthday without the firstborn;
and for hearts to question, ‘Why!’ without knowing who to vent themselves.
O that they may become open, like the doors of neighbouring sanctuaries,
to shout abuse to those that offer hope and to question their love.
And may those that seek to love the lost, with unfailing love, embrace
the broken spirits as the gospel restores the soul.
That truth may set them free and words of God, from the lips of
those like John, begin new life everlasting and new hope everlasting.
No comments:
Post a Comment