Grief

A poem I recently wrote for a friend who lost his wife.

For every moment remembered,
every heartfelt “I love you,”
all the days serving the Lord
and the times when you never got bored.
Your kingdom-sized dreams
of mansions side by side,
worshipping the king,
walking streets gold and wide.
You were truly best friends,
a dynamic duo.
And as your heart mends,
I pray God gives you hope.

There is more awaiting you,
all those tears will be gone.
Those dreams that you grew
are so very close,
Longer than you may like
but closer than you know,
just a little while longer,
and you will see that kingdom glow.

2 Corinthians 4:17-18
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

Roots of truth

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The whisperings of the wind

Flutter and surround my being.

I often get caught up in this whirlwind

And sometimes stop thinking.

I stop knowing,

Knowing the truth.

The constant, steady tree with roots.

Roots that go down deep

And spread out wide.

That will always keep

Me still inside.

Peace

That flows like a river.

Sometimes the breeze makes me shiver.

I want the truth with deep down roots instead of the wind

making the air increasingly thinned,

all of its noise fills up my ears, with little room left to think or to speak,

I hopelessly feel like I’ll slip because I’m weak.

Those roots, and that river, that steady slow growth,

remind me I’m loved and give oh so much hope.

Father, Please help me!

To remember your truth,

Not forgetting the words that I memorized as a youth.

I pray that I will forget the words of this world,

That strangle and poke at this weak little girl.

May your truth reign in my life and over this earth,

So people may see and know of YOUR worth!

 

Poem by Ella Stewart

The rotten chocolate pencil

It tempts me as I write

With each and every stroke on paper

I want to take a bite.

But if I bite into it, I will not be satisfied

Because rotten chocolate pencils

very much deceive the eyes.

That tempestuous outside

gives way to a nasty inside.

Though beautiful on paper,

Eloquent words and all

In reality it is evil,

Merely begging you to fall.

But to exchange the rotting one for one fresh and newly made

The pencil will be useless until you make the exchange.

And once exchanging the pencil,

You do in fact dig in,

You will find it quite delightful,

And fully without sin.

 

This poem is written by Ella Stewart.