Lord he could pray! Rising up from the Simple wooden bench With a look on his face That was a cross between Having lost his own mother And hearing that he had 6 months to live, he would start. A low soft voice that trembled With the knowledge that the Sin of that hot little church Rested on his shoulders Would beseech and beg for Mercy from above Then build in strength As he thanked Heaven for The blessings it bestowed. When sermon time came He again rose to his pulpit And would look with eyes as sad as I imagined God’s to be upon the seated As he tied, One By One The strings of guilt, Unworthiness, And fear. One By One He would tug, watching the emotions Dance to the music of Amens As they bounced off the tired Ceiling and out the open Windows to save the Unrepentant. Lord He could Pray…… Ron Travis
Reason for writing:
This is the second of three poems about how I saw my father.
The First, Dad, and the last Deliverance can be found on this sight.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by R.W. Travis ( Leo).