The wounded land pleads weakly for relief
While we, beset by squalls and angry skies
Seek Hope – though bruised and stolen by a thief
Lives on, impaired, weighed down by countless lies.
With hearts’ uncertain cadence in our breast
We search for Hope’s faint cries we barely hear.
Assailed by dark’ning lies that we must best,
That Hope, relieved, spurns evil’s savage leer.
Hope’s freedom soothes our landscape’s caustic pain;
Conferring light, recedes the dark’ning days;
So lips that silence evil’s taunts can gain;
Set free the love dark’s clawing grasp had stayed.
In this fraught time, then, let us Hope embrace
To heal our hearts, and restore good through Grace.
Stephen Bolles
12/24; All Rights Reserved