Someday I’ll walk in heav’nly lands,
By crashing waves and sunlit sands,
Shall walk beneath an azure sky,
On grassy hills and meadows lie.
No more will furrows cross my brow,
No more my worries back to bow,
No more to let my peace be stirred,
By frowning face or angry word.
Then will I let God’s love enfold,
Will tell His story bright and bold,
Will shine forth with His glorious light,
My weakness showing forth His might.
Love’s not so much about …
How good things feel,
Romantic fantasies,
The wildest ecstasies.
Love’s when I give to you;
And you give to me.
When I serve you,
And you serve me.
When I forgive,
And you forgive me;
And sometimes all above
Might not be simultaneously.
Love is when
We talk it out,
Shout it out,
Cast about —
Find a way
To understand,
For you and I,
God’s wondrous plan.
Love is not
The glitzy clothes,
The plastic-surgery nose,
The fishnet pantyhose,
The painted lips,
The swivelly hips,
And lacy slips.
Though those might have their place sometimes,
And not always to be condemned,
The love that’s everlasting, true,
Looks in the soul and finds a friend —
Another soul with which to view
The world — both hand in hand
Until life’s destined end.
— September 29, 2013
Swift Runner met Delicate Flower,
And under the silver moon,
He asked for her hand in marriage.
Their canoe flew swiftly
Over the waters,
Gliding smoothly, like oil
On the glass-still lake.
The storm came unexpectedly,
And when it was over,
He could not find
His beloved Flower.
She comes to him in dreams
On soft summer nights,
Gliding on the perfume
Of mock-orange flowers.
— April 22, 2012
Joy in your sorrow,
hugs in your pain,
hope for tomorrow,
beginning again.
How to hug the world’s pain?
A hug could seem so trite.
To let hope enter in again,
Make heavy burden light?
How to ease the suffering
Of untold millions’ blight?
How to bring a healing balm,
A quiet calm, a lasting peace,
A heart at ease, a healing light?
Oh heavy burden, how to bear?
The Savior’s groan does pierce the air.
Looking back, what will I leave?
Sadness, joy, or bickering?
Will people smile as they remember
Those moments spent, us two together?
Will they laugh, or rather cry?
Be gratified, or give a sigh?
How did I spend my life on earth?
The pain endured, how much was worth?
The weeds, the wheat, the flowers strewn
Will be the writing on my tomb.
clarakatalin 