Twenty Days of May

Twenty days have passed in the month of May
and my soul still feels cold.
The aches, the pain, the darkened stains,
still weigh on my chest;
No, I’m not at rest.

Though the weather feels fine,
all my surroundings don’t define
my heart, that still yearns
for the vine,
that satisfactory wine – so sweet.

The complete joy
I run after,
yet I yield to each disaster;
they blockade my path,
and so I let them.

My peaks fall
faster than I ever raised them tall,
and I wonder
does my God, like thunder,
rage against my tiring?

Oh grace!
what a mysterious way,
God grants me goodness,
despite my cliche
of hypocritical motions
and false emotions.
Is there glory in that display?

Lord, reveal
the loves I hold dear,
and convert them true
to a divine love for You.


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