“The Vow” by Linda Willows

He Called to me-bent, I was humbled in tears…
with aches from the past, my heart burning up years.
The Savior had Loved me and stood by my past.
He held my heart broken, as it emptied like glass.

One thousand years past in the scroll of that heart,
so filled with forever’s, it’s keepsakes and marks.
The deepest of never had pierced childhood frights,
The Lord marked my Life as saved by His Light.

Grace is the bend that weeps gently before,
His Temple anoints with Love’s sacred door.
All reaching, beseeching and poured to the fore.
He Brings wondrous the Birth of His Threshold’s Adore.

One thousand suns and eternity waits
to receive every heart that surrenders its gates.
Every hour, every dawn is a new time to bow
To beseech and appeal, to bend into The Vow.

Oh Lord flood the hearts that seek Mercy’s sweet
Help rebuild the gardens we tend in Your Keep.
To darkness is born a child of the Light.
Today, in our time- bring forward all Brights.

Keep me in faith and humbled to see
my own heart with wisdom that Love comes to me.
Inscribe on my days, the will of His Own;
Let purpose, repentance, and faith led me Home.

All life, joy, and sorrow live on in me now…
cries for mercy, for God, for the birth of Love’s Vow.
One command from the depths is enough to bring Light
Bring birth to this hour, Lord receive me this Night.

Glory is in His name, The Vow, Love His Call.
Listen, He whispers, “I was there throughout All”.

© 2016 Linda Willows Reprint; 2015 Linda Willows

“Pour, Godly Good”, by Linda Willows


I must fire the storm and let the rain pour.
I cannot hold still or lie down anymore.

A dance in me is burning my muse.
Hidden, sleeping, like an untouched long fuse.

It is painful to move; for too long, life unused.
I stir to wake, or forever to lose.

Break all apart until this heart starts.
Thunder the veins that would seem to depart.

Dance through the glass and the red fallen post.
Clear the halls filled with her irradiant ghost.

Let all the called winds bring Your heavenly Host
And find muse fired in skies that light Your Beauty most.

Mark all the told and invoke the birthed new.
Let all that is Sacred claim this motion’s due.

Leaping into the arms of your love’s Evermore,
Let the Godly in and sweet rainstorms pour.

©2016  Linda Willows, original 2012