Where do poems come from?
My young daughter said.
Do they come from a poem tree
That grows in your head?
A shepherd my Lord will be unto me,
A shepherd when I go astray.
His Word my guide, His Will to see,
I’m a sheep who has lost its way.
I wish I were a bird on a wire,
As they gather at sunset, the world to inspire.
Huddled on every square inch they can find,
Like clumps of seaweed on a fowled anchor line.
Falls from the sky,
I gaze in wonder,
As the white flakes fly.
Then the Lord answered Job and said:
Who is this who distorts my words,
And does so with knowledge that’s vain,
Aweigh now your anchors
Set trim to your sails,
For the voyage of your mind
Will spin wondrous tales.
Find rest my soul in lyric’s chime,
Refreshed anew by making rhyme.
It’s course my thoughts direct the paths
That make my mind to sing.
After the war,
and the forest burned down,
Nothing was left,
save the scorched barren ground.
Surely there’s a righteous man,
Surely there’s a few.
Lord surely some would keep their Faith,
And trust alone in You.