A little poem as we go into Election Day…
Two hands drape a branch
Over the shoulders
A branch hanging down his spine
We all have our crosses to bear
He has his and I have mine
The voice of God
The voice of His Spirit
Is so small these days
It’s a strain to hear it
But there in the old ways
How long, O Lord
Will your people continue
With fissures divide
On issues which don’t matter
Ignoring how children cried?
Will the politics of the day
Blind us to the kingdom
At hand before us?
Shall all eventually be lost,
With only saints left to cuss?
While he walks with his cross
I think of the Savior
And am as sure he’s with me
As the next guy
Voting in the land of the free.
(I won’t be posting in November for NaNoWriMo; I’ll be off in December for Christmas break! See you in the new year!)
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