[Note: I have tried for YEARS to write a decent poem in iambic pentameter, with no success. Then this one just HAPPENED. There’s no telling how the muse will strike.]
We will go home, we will go home at last.
No crying then, and all our sorrows past.
All will be well, our wounds and traumas done —
The world so bright, like unto twenty suns.
And then we’ll know, yet couldn’t see it here,
That all our troubles, hardships, and our fears,
Were but a flash, a drop in ocean vast —
Were only tests and trials, meant not to last.
And then we’ll see (but didn’t seem so then) —
The suff’ring woe of women and of men
Was worth it all — for what we were to gain,
Outshines, like sun, the candle of our pain.
Don’t hold on too tightly;
See the light shining brightly —
Let earthly things grow dim;
Hold onto life lightly.
Your wealth, your possessions,
But briefly will last.
What good do they do you,
When too closely grasped?
We’re just passing through,
And life’s but a gleam.
Just love for God and others
Makes worthy our theme.
We’re on our way through;
The world seems an illusion,
With dangers and snares,
Fraught with tears and confusion.
There’s just one exception:
The good that we live,
The love that we share
And compassion we give.
I had my head down for so long,
It takes training for me to lift it up.
My focus is off; My heart’s eyes myopic.
Learning from God is my only cure.
“For the joy set before him he endured,”
“He considered the fact that God is able,”
“Our light and momentary troubles,”
“Our slight afflictions,”
“The sufferings of this present time,”
“Not worth comparing with the glory.”
I don’t know how abuse, torture, rape, crucifixion,
Ridicule, mockery, calumny,
Beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonments and more,
Suffered by some,
Can be called “slight –”
But the glory, the joy, of heaven,
Must be far greater than anyone can imagine.