From loneliness, fear, and pain we flee,
We seek a stronger wine;
Our weakness hides in the deepest sea,
Where never the sun will shine.
Our limits may force us to tough decisions,
That in the end bring greater blessing;
God finds a wider field for provisions,
As circumstance becomes more pressing.
Our private life is in the street,
Beyond our walls and doors;
In public we uncover our feet —
Man upon all fours.
The aside spoken twixt thee and me in whispers,
Or else is muttered only to my whiskers —
The worldly need not hear at first our struggles,
But see the Spirit of God in human troubles.
The world has little use for the old and infirm:
“What can the powerless do for me?” they ask.
To them the low and helpless hold little charm,
But God — to welcome them is his loving task.
To each his own, and mine
is this: a space for words,
the quiet of thought, a line
to order the power of swords.
To see what you can do with me,
To know what I can soon become,
I seek, O Lord, the fullest sum;
I ask your grace to do and be.
Mind and body need control,
Potential requires the whip;
The might of God must power the soul,
And close the moving lip.
Unwanted, the unborn child’s aborted,
So self continues to reign;
To extreme measures the mother resorted:
She kills to relieve her pain.
Another quatrain, over on TFR:
Touch but One or Two