Monday, April 14, 2014


A few weeks ago when my sister and cousin came to visit, my cousin shared with us a book of poems that she was reading at the time. 

In the whirlwind of speedy days, I like the way I have to 
in order to read a poem.

This particular one measures my breath as I steadily walk through it and then ends up taking my breath up and out and out, and then back deep into my own heart. There, a bit of poetic license! and now the poem:

[by Grace Noll Crowell]

Out of an olden golden book I take
Bright words and weave them into a lustrous thing:
A bow of promise for my own heart's sake,
A glory for my spirit's comforting.
And when the day is dark I set it there
Where I can see its colors on the air,
Its fabric spun of God's own precious words,
His everlasting covenant to man:
It pierces through the darkest cloud, it girds
The whole of earth and heaven in its span:
These promises that I have set apart
Into a bow of comfort for my heart.

1 comment:

  1. Great word smithing. What you said about it breathing fresh air to otherwise stale parts of the soul; so true.