When weeping won’t wane,
And a whine turns to wail,
When pouring one’s heart plain
Transforms to travail,
A strange sort of break may
Occur in the soul –
The floodgates of faith, they
Do one over-bowl.
Vast mountains of misery
Move just a wee smidge;
Forgiveness calms waters
Gone under the bridge.
‘Tis then that one’s weeping,
No mere sorrow show,
May move on to reaping
To best what we sow.
c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson
Image:
Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.
This poem was posted
in response to these prompts:
April A to Z Blog
Challenge
Writer’s Workshop:
“break”
NaPoWriMo
#atozchallenge
#napowrimo
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