A little word with so much meaning, What does it call forth? Pining A place beckoning on, Where I can find rest, On the hearth where I sit down. But there is something specific, Missing from other places, That in this place I find, Peace. With empty space to roam, That I can come back […]
A poem by Jacinta Wick Sweetest of whispersRushes of airThrough hell and high waterThrough breezes and gently falling rain,A voice is callingTranscending all time. Surrender of willsBeckoning whispersCalling my name.Inviting my weaknessMy blushing in shameTo be directedBeyond my strengthBeyond my directionBeyond my initiativeTo someone else’s power. Waiting I’ll standStrengthened and bolsteredThrough raging torrent orCalmLight piercing […]
Tag: Peace
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