Thursday, February 28, 2013
Expecting My Return
I dare say I don't know,
As I strike across these lonely plains
In this winter of my soul.
In the old days they would tie a rope
From the homestead to the barn,
To abide and take not the next lead
In the latest blizzard yarn.
They knew the dangers of this land
Where the drab winter cold stays long.
A man could think he's dead sure on
And yet find he's dead sure wrong.
Here is where I find my roots
Long buried in the snows.
The tracks of past and present fade,
Out where the cold wind blows.
Through these smears of clouded grey
As doubts and fears abound,
Will my howls yet find their way?
Will they even make a sound?
I turn to Hope and dig for Grace
Where in ancient words I see,
'Sufficient for you, in your weak place,
is the perfect grace of Me'.
What light that breaks not through the sky
Yet from my heart it wells!
Within my grasp He casts the line
To show me where He dwells.
In cozy embers, warm, divine,
The fires of Mercy still burn.
Every tear He's kept of mine,
Expecting my return.
Here I am in your arms, Lord!
Your words have been my guide.
I knew not the way but through it all,
You never left my side.
- d.c.elliott. 2.28.13