Your Love does drape and washes my heart,
It offers life, where once did depart,
the hopes and dreams of most humble start,
even my faith, oh dear Lord, this deep part.
Honor restores with my deeply bowed head,
this journey, this world, how it turned, how it bled.
Give pardon and mercy, release Love’s embed,
come through my garden, Lord – sweep days ahead.
If Love does not reign, all shall wither and die,
each creature, each mortal; we will rise in a cry.
Help find the cloak that would warm all our souls,
and prompt all Hearts in most sacred ex-toll.
©2013 Linda Willows
Photograph by David Galstyan