Lord, lift my son to You
I lost and found him throughout the years,
In stories that wound, and then tangled with tears.
There I lay, soaked in a hive of mother-fears
Caught in the crossfire of life’s past arrears.
I surrendered, confessed, in soliloquy bared
and all of my words left your heart undeclared.
You are loved, my son. My soul pours without end.
Nothing could sever or hinder the soul’s blend.
Your blue eyes dwell like faraway doors
yet I wander through decades of horizons, yours.
More cherished than anything that words could hide;
Inscribed here are the visions that love wrote inside.
Lord, carry what I am powerless to hold.
Lift my son’s heart to Yours in Love’s mercy bold.
Be His Father, stir miracles – the ones that were born
When you formed him in me, your own Spirit’s dwelling sworn.
© 2017 Linda Willows
Sometimes the silence is louder than words,
breaking the bonds that were holding long hopes.
Dreams swell from heart circles that want from inside;
Deaths that longed for reunion; for the soaked tears night tide.
How can the words be poured, more into your heart
my sorrow, regret; a lowly humbled restart.
Aching to take back each cause of your pain,
to lie down before you with God’s mercy refrain.
Time hollows the dream that someday you might call,
and doors make no sense with without a key from the fall.
How could I have known not to touch that one vein,
It was the sole thorn that we shared in life’s pain.
Pray, God grant love stronger in absence of accord,
still losing the price of time, hope and heart’s cord.
Born a mother and son is a lifelong vein’s core…
The heartbeat does utter throughout in strong roar.
© 2016 Linda Willows