Grey the day with cloud and clutter,
Music’s muted melody obscured,
Discord in search of harmony,
Gives lie to the Promise of His Presence,
If Truth were only that which can be seen.
Faith, though,
Believes not vision, but God,
For God’s sake.
All powers of perception,
But a touch of His finger,
A curtain parted for a peek,
Hardly the measure
Of the Almighty’s might.
By Faith,
The eyes of the soul see,
And pierce the veil,
Rendering gain,
That gleaned in blindness,
So I count the clouds joy,
For Faith keeps hope alive.
I am all believing,
And with conviction,
Clutched and cradled,
Felt with the fingers of my trust.
I live the Promise of His Presence.
© 2012 Joann Nelander

Who is the Poorest of the Poor?

November 11, 2015 by Be Holy

Who is the poorest of the Poor?
Is it not the one deprived of womb?
Is it not the one gone unnamed?
Given a frame
But denied rightful claim,
Stripped bear of place,
No space to grow,
Deprived of a proper birth?
Is it not the one evicted,
Before drawing it’s first breath,
Whose beating heart is silenced,
With the sanction of the Court!?
With privacy,
Lest the whole world hear it’s cry?

Though a mother forget her child,
The Father of all fathers
Will not, no never, forget.
He has a place,
And a name,
For all the poor,
For the poorest
Of the poor,
Called “Beloved”
And “Poor No More”.