James Tipp

Rookie - 408 Points (20-06-1945 / East London)

The Death Of A Child- The Pointing Finger - Poem by James Tipp

A life ended before it has begun
In the time it takes to blink,
A millisecond, he was gone,
Not even the echo of his laughter
Disturbed the house, spoke of his presence.
Yet the cruelty of this chance happening
This accident, has sent a tidal wave
Of grief and fear and frustration
Roaring through his friends.
And you the man of faith,
Are you exempt, detached?
Can you remove the pain and grief?
Answer the question, Why?
This dark wave is no stranger to you.
You have stood beneath it shadow
Been deluged in its mighty force.
Your saving grace is you are just a finger
A finger that points to Him who saves.
The one for whom pain was real
Whose body torn and bleeding
Lay lifeless in the tomb, life’s echo gone
Yet hope was just a millisecond away
The power of God that calms the storm
Brings light in the darkness, real light
The echo of life goes on in him
The one for whom death meant life for all
The finger points to him, who lives
Gives hope to you a hope to be shared.
In the midst of grief and pain.
Easter beckons with its empty tomb
Its message of hope for all who grieve
‘Why look for the living among the dead’


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 15, 2009



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