Wednesday, March 25, 2015

The Wind

               The wind blows wherever it pleases. 
                 You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from 
                   or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.
                                                        John 3:8

                                                                              


The tract of sunlight
has just opened
  across the blue inroads 
of blood
on the old-back terrain 
of my hand,
this flesh,
this crumpled cage we love
and love to slip 
our slender souls between,
into the great God-wind
scattering our breath
far into His vast spirit
 at last,
 at last.







6 comments:

  1. This was a surprise-I thought it was about nature until I read "of my hand." This is beautiful. Love!

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    1. Thanks Anne. So glad you enjoyed the surprise! Grateful for stopping by to read and comment so graciously!! God Bless...

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  2. So beautiful. So beautiful! I will sit with this one a long time. What a focused, gentle, intense piece. I will read it again and again. Well done! Thank you for this!

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    1. Thank you Amy, Every now and again one will fall out. Nice to have this happen after the last poem's ongoing struggles!! Still messing with that other one! Ha...I may have to wait a long time...Love to you friend!

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  3. I want to say something but find words are inadequate. Just: thank you. Once again, thank you.

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    1. Thank you Nancy! You are so dear. So grateful for your gift always!! God Bless friend...

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