A poetic redemption
Today is the day on which I thought I'd share with you a poem that has been a while in coming (to this blog). It was actually written for me by a dear friend (whom I shall let remain anonymous). I thought now was a fitting time to post this poem, because I felt like it and because it demonstrates being an 'instrument in the redeemer's hands', through poetry, which to me is a wonderful combination. It's a (rather well-developed) form of 'active listening' if you will (it certainly let me know that they had heard me - and I was amazed), which then points where it needs to: upwards. There is of course a story behind the poem, and how I came to have the poem, which I don't think you need to know in order to understand it (and the picture holds a clue), but if it is completely unfathomable I might write more.
Private Paroxysms
Who will cry for
that little girl?
playing alone
in a paddock
of little lambs
with her sister
stuck in the car
windows rolled up
grave aversion
Who will cry for
that little girl?
floating alone
on an ocean
of grievous loss
with her mother
staring ahead
at his absence
frozen in stone
Who will cry for
that little girl?
never alone
in the struggle
with her shepherd
who stood there
before the tomb
his spirit moved
greatly troubled
Who will cry for
this little girl?
That Shepherd does
who shed tears then
later his blood
to make her his
and hold her tight
this little lamb
safe in his arms
So she can cast
her tears on him.