A dear friend read to me from Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8. For me, verse 4 stood out from all the others, and as it turned out, it was a gift. And, so I write...
My dear friend,
you placed in my hand
a gift...
a gift of mourning.
My usually carefree heart
would much rather dance,
yet the gift given
is tears
running down cheeks
like rivers
without ceasing...
wet rivulets
whose source
is a mother's heart
heavy with weight of son
pushing his way
through yet another day
of finding his purpose
in a world with pain
a world hard to explain.
Tears can’t fix
this weighty burden
yet they bring release
to damned up emotions
and deliver a sense of peace.
In embracing this
gift of mourning
I’ll allow tears to fall,
knowing Father’s compassion’s
will not fail,
His mercy is fresh,
every morning...
© Copyright 2010 Marie Nease
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