Many years ago I met a young woman living along one of our country roads who shared some of her heartfelt poetry with me. I listened and was touched.
I haven’t seen her very often over the many years since then but every time I did I repeatedly questioned her as to whether she had written any more poems. The answer was always… “No.”
Now I don’t usually read poetry. I guess maybe it goes too slow. Or it tends to catch my mind and I get caught in its web when I want to take off on another project.
But the other day I met my friend downtown and as usual I quizzed her as to what poems she had written lately.
She hadn’t. But a few days later I got a call and she read one to me.
I just felt she would also send it to me in the mail. That’s special nowadays because so many of us use e-mail instead of hand writing and posting a letter. But I miss the personal touch and the artistic script that I saw in her letter.
She explained that she almost never shares her poetry. I understand that. When you spend time and effort expressing your heartfelt thoughts they cannot be casually touched or just brushed aside by uncaring or simply busy wayfarers.
But she saw something in me that connected us… and she wrote: “Remember, we are all brothers and sisters, belonging to our Heavenly Father who never leaves our side and always understands when no one else can hear our pain.”
And if you can take the time… to allow someone who might have been down a similar path as yours… to touch your heart and encourage you along your way…
she requested to remain unknown so as to allow you to make it more personal...
if so, read on…
My Journey
I did not know when I began
How long would be my journey.
Each new day was a gift to me
And the future for my learning.
Sunbeams spilling into each new day
Filling moments to the brim.
There were no thoughts of self back then.
To everything I seemed akin.
There were those days when showers came
And all seemed upside down.
But all it took was mom or dad
To turn it all around.
The years passed by and I began to see
Storm clouds on the horizon.
I braced myself, but fear ran deep
As though I had taken poison.
Where is the sun I used to know?
Why has it gone away?
Remember me. The little one
Who once came out to play?
Remember me and those carefree days
When all was safe and good?
Why does it have to be so hard;
I wish I understood.
Memories are such precious things
But selective I must be.
Tossing those which weigh me down
Keeping only what will set me free.
Time is short, so very short.
So hard I have had to run.
In faith I must look up to see
The guidance of the Son.
.
