My fingers are still mute after the tragedies.
They couldn't weave anything, but ask.
I am sick like Job, searching for Your answers.
"Where are you?"
"Why do You hide from us?"
Yet, I know You hold everything
And like a Father -
You will soon come to our aid.
Show us the way.
Show us Thy Light.
Amen.
/rosevocations
Comments
Post a Comment