Poem based on Reformation Day John 8:31-36
The little child cried
Looking at the father
And the spilt milk
--one
----more
------time
cried for fear that she had
again offended
simply by being
--the
----little
------child
and the fathers arms went
around her
and held her
and loved her
loving not the spilt milk
but cleaning the mess
and drying the tears
in love
you are my child because of
who you are
and who I am
and in trying not to spill
the milk
you live out what my child is
and does
soar my child
soar with the freedom
that comes with knowing who
you are
soar with the freedom
to spill milk
and know who you are
soar to the freedom of love
that together
we may soar
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home