Tomorrow Can See
Here in The Gift
is a newness that breaks known as God’s Calling, in the Dawn of His wake.
Burdens born then,
come round to the fore, lifted like children that have gone through the Door.
There, in all hearts
is a pouring that soars. Altars that pray, they worship and adore.
Tomorrow can see, Love will be throughout time. Given, our living, forever, as Thine.
© 2019 Linda Willows
Exodus 17:15 –“And Moses built an altar and called the name of it, The Lord Is My Banner.”
Isaiah 41:40 –“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with … nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Revelation 3:20 –“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”
Muse from a Dance, Song Sung to Me
O heart, heart where have you been,
you woke with a quake, with love’s rupture in.
Muse from a dance remembered from song,
long ago, long ago; lifted life’s wrong.
O come near, and sweeten, deepen this time-
live again, bind all and wrap her as thine.
Muse from a dance remembered from when,
all of the fragments flew back to time then.
O heart, heart breathe into this air,
fill with the soft, with the peace of love’s dare.
Muse from a dance, song sung to me,
lifted from hope in the way of prayer’s plea.
© 2018 Linda Willows
2 Corinthians 2:9
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Motioned inside the ache of what breaks,
my limbs, they are stretched, called out to seek space.
finding the pathways hidden with twists
from all that tangles, from broken resist.
How deeply this pull does want in these arms,
they reach with far longing like the sky’s destitute,
tipping and touching with hands that sweep out
like wings former broken, now finding life’s route.
Pulse stirs within each breath that revolves,
unraveling, unwinding, revealing absolve.
Escorted within the quaking of mirth
comes joy freed upon life’s glory rebirth.
© 2017 Linda Willows