My Tears Numbered More 1-19-19

A hard worker, I was, with zig and with zag,

but God said that my work was one filthy rag.

I said, "I'm a self-made multi-millionaire."

But God said, "You're prideful and I do not care."

I argued, "I poured my whole life into this."

But God then responded, "What life did you miss?"

I said, "I deserve my most hard-earned reward.'

But God said, "I'll give you a cross like your Lord."

I cried, "You can't do that!  I'll commit suicide!"

But God said, "I know that.  You once almost died."

Screamed I, "Seven properties!  It just isn't fair!"

But God whispered gently, "I still do not care."

I cried in my pity.  My tears hit the floor.

But God answered kindly, "I promise you more."

They've stolen my hard work and all of my years!"

I pointed in anger, "See my pool of tears?"

He knocked on my heart's door.  I said, "Go away."
But God kept on knocking... yes, day after day.

I fell to my knees in emotional stress.

But God reassured me, "It's you I will bless."

"Just how will you bless me?" I asked selfishly.

And God answered softly, "Come here close to me."

I got up but I just stood stubbornly there.

God simply responded, "Life never is fair."

I said, "I can hear you.  What next?" I had sighed.

Then God again answered, "Come here to my side."

Not sure of His motives, I came to Him then.
He held me.  He loved me.  I cried once again.

"I confess, I repent, I now understand you."

Then God said, "Forgiven.  Now here's what you do."

I listened intently now free of all sin.

The vine was quite diff'rent.  He grafted me in!

My job was to bear fruit, the best that I could.

There were abused children and help them, I would.

My elders, my neighbors, the sick needed care.

The years were before me.  Good friends I made there.

Once filled up with money, my heart nearly froze.

Now I'm loving others, my warmth overflows.

Remember, my God, when I acted as child?

You guided and taught me to be meek and mild.

I'm sorry, my God, when my tears filled the floor.

Then God said, "Don't worry.  My tears numbered more."
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No matter how heavy our tears today flow,
our God's love is greater than we'll ever know. ~louis gander

©2019 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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In Language Seldom Heard 1-2-19

Near foot high grass on contoured lands

on winding stream where timber stands,

I longed to be on nature's sod

where furry ones and pilgrims trod.
While sitting there within my dream

on boulder overlooking stream,

I dreamt of living in the wood,

of peace and hopes among the good.

A little fish had caught my eye.

I asked of it, "Please tell me why...

why do you seem so content

without the shelter of a tent?"
It simply made a little splash
and said, "I don't need home or cash.
I am content when water's clean.
I don't need man to intervene".

A little fawn on nearby path

was soaking in a sunlit bath.

I held my breath and held my thrill,

as I sat there so quiet, still.
It's soft tan fur just begged a touch

but me, it didn't care for much.

It jumped off quick around a tree.
Where it had gone, I couldn't see.

I heard a nearby sparrow sing.
It wasn't rich and wasn't king.
But it enjoyed its outdoor space
away from man and human race.
Now it was happy, that I knew,
but when I sang, it quickly flew.
I knew that it would be alright
and watched 'til it was out of sight.

I wondered what would happen next,

what I could write within my text.

I felt the breeze and breathed it in,

then heard all nature's prayer begin.

It was in language seldom heard

from fish or beast or even bird,

yet nature praised the God above

with all its beauty, all its love.

Black city streets are not for me.

The stink, the noise should never be.

Encroaching here upon this scene

are man-made things grossly obscene.

They're out of sync and out of place.

It's just not right, a huge disgrace.

God gave this beauty to the man

and has for us a greater plan.

Our God will bless if we've obeyed,

so please protect what He has made.

All this is God's and that is fine.
It isn't yours and isn't mine.

Creation spoke to me in wood

in lovely word now understood.

Still, I fell short when I replied.

In faded echoes my words died.

©2019 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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