Posted in Poemesque

Response…

You are right, sister mine.

The flowers, they care not for us.

Neither do they know us.

~

Our dreams and aspirations

Are none of their concern.

Yet they speak to us in turn

~

Of light and love and peace.

Of joy that transcends the mind.

And listening, I find

~

His voice.

A promise of caring

An offer of sharing

~

If I but look and see

If I will bend to read

As they take the lead

~

In crying out His praise.

What they have to say

Is greater than the way

~

I want to hear them speak.

I want to dress them in lace

And have them tell me of my place

~

In this world.

Who loves me and who hates me.

What to do when one berates me.

~

I am asking far too much

Of one to whom God only said

“Tell her not to worry her head.”

~

Through them to me:

“I love you when you love Me .”

“I love you when you love Me not.”

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Author:

I rock. I also paper and scissors.

Come on. Let it out. You know you want to.

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