The world is sore, hurt,
Hearts are aching, some breaking,
There is a need, more;
A light to shine against darkness,
A love to restore hope, dreams,
A requirement here, now, to meet,
To wrap snug comforting arms
Around those who weep for peace.
We each are an answer for doubt,
Fear, pain, hurt damaging, deranging
Others, liken to who we are,
We give the hands, hearts, lives,
Provide at this moment
And wield loving care, ample goodness
For the benefit of every soul
Residing in this troubled world.
We are chosen, given faith,
To stand for love, sharing blessing,
Finding delight in the company
Of those presently escaping night.
That is the last of what I have so far written. Maybe I will relax, but I do not count on it. When the words wish, they come. I cannot turn them away as if no one were home. Did I, I might later find they would stop. Yes, I have some superstitions about this gift, talent, that makes no sense being given to me. I let it have a place and time when it chooses. I think my life would be a desert without it.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan