The Grieving Soul

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By  Teresa Baker-Carl  

Smooth as the petals of roses,
soft as a gentle rain;
tender as a baby's breathing,
and quiet as the growing grain,
we become aware of this love He gives
imperceptible as a whispered breeze
curling and swaying around us
cooling the soul which grieves.
Heaven on high is weeping,
even this Lord Who died,
never afraid to enter in to the sorrows which we have so often cried.
Not often knowing the comfort,
nor sensing from whence it comes,
we sink deeply into the weeping
which longs to fill up our lungs
as our hearts cry out to Someone 
we have only vaguely known,
Who is somehow leading us onward 
to that comforting place called home.
And there the sorrows are taken away
with only the greatest of Love
by He Who came down to rescue those
who seek their healing above.

© 2019, Anthony Stine. All rights reserved. You may reuse or copy this post by giving credit and providing a link.

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