Untitled

(Dedicated to my sister, Ish and my cyber bud Pro…one of the poems in my, yet-to-be-published book)

there's a soul in mourning
it cries out, not sure how to vent
inner tears, from night until morning
hoarse and exhausted, withered and spent

in need of affection, to cover the wounds some
waiting, oh, waiting for the sunshine to come

never quite knowing how to deal
tired of the churning of your inner organs
tryna be ok, not WANTING to keep it real
letting go is so hard, but, therein, HEALING begins

crying out to the Father, in words only HE hears
sniffles, shouts, utterances, and the thoughts we don't say
He knows how to comfort His children and calm all our fears
u don't even have to say it, just, in His lap, we lay

He rubs our back and strokes our face
He ushers us into His secret place
where, in His Presence, all hurts erase
so we can live again

He gives us a hope that we, in ourselves, can't hold
He's ever near us, with a heart warm, to shield us from a life that's cold
ur tears are always His concern and His compassion never grows old
so, we can love again

he won't let our trials and tribs burn us out
that's what His strength in our weakness is all about
though, we can't always be on the same page with Him...take heart and don't doubt
His ways are not our ways...but he heals in ALL ways

ain'tchu glad He speaks "Kind Language"?