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I Hear You, Lord

Sing to me in sonnets that reach deep into the ears of my spirit,

for your birdsong is the exact rhythm that reminds my grieving heart how to beat.


Blow your gentle breezes across my tendency toward angst and despair,

for they are as caressing, velvety soft reminders to listen to your whispers.


Trickle your creek beds over the sharp rocks of my worries,

for your sounds smooth the edges of my unrest.


Shine on me the rays of your magnificence,

for their warmth softens the stiffness of my spirit's pull to control.


Touch me with the hands of your miraculous creation,

for nature is as the salve that magically closes my every open wound.


Mold me with the patience of an artist who has spent years lovingly carving his prized block of wood,

for your tender persistence has chipped away  my pickles of resistance and is now sanding smooth my faith in what is to be.


Blossom the gifts of my spirit into lush, beautiful gardens,

ones that reveal the power of your love, and offer healing peace to a waiting world.


©Chris Colyer

May 3, 2020

 

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