Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Blue Is The River.

Blue is the river that I’m carried down
Rushing toward a black lake of slime
There’ll be no foothold; no places to grasp
Will somebody save me, that’s all that I ask?

I raise up my arms as the slime closes in
It seeps into my breathing; my eyes growing dim
Too much time spent pondering and looking for hope
I looked for a future but I still couldn’t cope.

As I gasped my last breath I was lifted up high
By a strong pair of arms though no one was nigh
I felt that black slime glide slowly away
My eyesight was clearer and I saw a new day.

The blue river was gone and a sparkling stream
Danced beside me as if in a dream
The sunlight twinkled through shimmering leaves
I was resting in a glade of beautiful trees.

It was then that I saw Him; a Man brown and lean
He was sitting beside me and that beautiful stream
He took both my hands and looked into my eyes
Saying, “You needed a Saviour and that’s no surprise.”

“Your sins are forgiven My Peace in your heart
Take my joy straight from Heaven; it’s not a fine art
It’s a habit to put on at the start of each day
A flickering smile that won’t run away.”

“Don’t fret and don’t worry what the future may hold
I am your Saviour, be brave and be bold
A day at a time is a big enough view
I am the Potter; I’ll do wonders with you.”

Wyn Barratt
Jan 2012

2 comments:

Marja Meijers said...

Sometimes you write like the ancient psalmists Wyn, one moment sad, the next praising God.

Wyn Barratt said...

The exciting thing, Marja, is that I never know where I am going with any of my poetry. I just am hit by an idea or a picture and the spirit grabs my pen.