The day may arrive
when my limbs
will no longer reach
or bend or stretch
or hug,
My voice
once vivid to all,
candid, full of laughter,
having expressed honestly
will be exempt of value,
grasping at air
for making lyrical sounds.
My feet
carrying purposeful gain
will be suspended; weak,
wearily still.
Nowhere to go.
My hands,
these nurturing hands;
caress old and new life,
create sustinence,
form treasures, rare.
These hands
that speak silent words
of valued truth,
gently touch and tightly grasp,
hold and release
will lose the strength they knew.
These eyes, once of vision
observing life and death,
beauty and abhorrence,
activity and sloth;
love and hate,
will stop all viewing.
The sound of silence
will be enough
for the ears that hear
laughter, anger and sorrow,
peaceful joy and shaming dread.
Ears that hear the Spirit's song,
enjoy a baby's first cry,
echoing every first,
"I love you",
will hear nothing more.
This active, multi-faceted mind;
where dreams and hopes
created peace and chaos,
confusion and discernment,
knowledge forming wisdom
reaching to the heart and soul
will cease to imagine.
This rhythmical heart
so fully satisfied,
abundant,
strong and faithful;
broken and mended,
intentionally whole
will cease to play my song.
This spirit will rise
to leave its legacy
of living truth and glory.
But not before
this abiding love has its day
to hold the unlovable,
assure the weary soul,
heal the broken,
feed the hungry,
clothe the naked,
saturate the parched,
encourage the downtrodden
and provide for the poor.
Not until my love
can love
no more.
One day....
|
