David E. Dowd
Harvesting Voices Of Hope - Poem by David E. Dowd
Blown by the wind, her jet black hair so flowed,
Her pretty pixie face sparkled and glowed.
Sitting on a couch, engaged in her thought
You would't think her insides were so taut.
Speaking of her kids and volunteering
You're caught up in her sheer persevering.
Like a woman who you might be extolling......
If you knew, you would be consoling.
He was so familiar and so warm to pull tight.
Close my eyes...the dance of romance..... so right.
In the morning, birds singing on light spring air.
A pregnancy test..... she sinks in despair.
He does the thing now expected of him.
Their act is not just done on a whim.
Marching past people praying and pleading..
They shut down their minds and stop believing.
Years now pass but the ache never leaves.
She cannot forget a life she conceives.
Waking up, she'd sit up and speak to her child...
And fall back bitterly, unreconciled.
And then Rachel's Vineyard's work crossed her path.
She'd suffered through her private aftermath.
She'd searched cemeterys for her lost soul.
In her dreams, she see her prancing sweet foal.
In thunder and lightning inside her mind...
God sought with His love, her soul to find...
The music she heard, she could not deny.
She had to give Rachel's Vineyard a try.
She's your neighbor sitting beside in a pew.
1/3 of the ladies are secretly blue.
Mother Mary looks upon them with love.
Sun's rays are streaming from heaven above.
At the next crash of thunder join me in prayer.
The song of dear Rachel might ease the despair.
And heal the broken soul of a woman you know.
Pray the thunder might touch where love could grow.
And then beg for rain, the rain of the voices
Whose suffering bleeds from all the wrong choices
Of mothers and fathers deceived and denied...
Truth. Lightning strike, raise these voices...
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