cheryl davis miller

(2/26/57 / America)

The Walking Dead


'You feel too deeply, ' my mother spoke.
When suddenly from sleep I woke.
How can one limit ones depth of heart?
Please tell me Mom I want to start.

To lesson the ache and stop the tears,
that's followed me these many years.
Then celebrate what is left of life,
free of the cares of pain and strife.

To look through my eyes and yet not see
the turmoil and perplexity,
of the lost and lonely souls out there.
Please tell me Mom how not to care.

How can I not hear the sad refrain
of souls vexed so by sins dark stain?
The ghastly reward of sin does flow,
wages of sin is death you know.

Sins payment is never sweet nor fair
more bitter yet when gathered where,
the worm dies not and souls can't go free,
but pay for sin eternally.

The lyrics of one old melody,
tell how the dept was paid for me.
Not only me but those souls out there.
So tell me Mom how not to care.

Jesus paid the total cost in full,
to free them from thier master cruel.
Yet blindly through this world they trod,
the walking dead; apart from God.

You see why I feel it so deeply,
is that the Lord lives within me.
His suffering we are called to share,
for all the walking dead out there.

So you see one can not feel too deep,
these words of 'wisdom' you must keep.
Deep calls to deep, 'Come my burdens share,
show the walking dead how We care.'

Submitted: Friday, November 29, 2013
Edited: Saturday, November 30, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

not for the faint of heart

-


4-10-13

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