My Lord, my God

Could not think of an appropriate title.  I rarely write poems about spiritual matters because no matter what, I feel they are inadequate.  But this one holds its own, I think.

My Lord, my God

In the terror of the night,

In my sorrow and my smallness

I will roll from my bed and fall to my knees

With tears racing from my cheeks to moisten my pillow

I will cry to thee, in my fear and despair

And such a cry will warily push open the door

Embark on a trek through a cold starlit hallway

Ever so long, ever so silent

Come to rest at the foot of thy bed

And in soft supplication, request comfort of thee.

Without hesitation, thou will be there

At the edge of my bed to ease the darkness

With a listening ear, with a boundless eye

To see the first strains of dawn which are not so far off

To describe them to me in a tongue of silence

Which sounds like knowledge and feels like peace

To kiss my brow and lift me into bed,

Keeping vigil over my sleeping form

When morning arrives I will meet it fearless

Triumphant in the courage granted me

By my Father, my God