Dry BonesA Poem by Cherrie PalmerSorrow and heavy heart
Dry bones carry me through the day,
As I search for ease from this pain I only find dust to drink. Days before the oil of gladness flowed, anointing me in mercy for the coming storm. There is no joy in the 'prodigal son,' and no rest from worry. There is forgiveness for the child now man, But the closed door of my hovel will only open to a sober hand. A heavy knowing blots out the sun streaking my face with sheets of rain and stinging my soul with sleet like pains. Words of stone I cannot lift. So, at the cross I lay them low, Then look upon this embittered child. My silence forms a wall of stone, but nurturing within is the seed of hope. © 2019 Cherrie PalmerFeatured Review
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15 Reviews Added on October 18, 2019 Last Updated on November 13, 2019 AuthorCherrie PalmerSpringfield , MOAboutI am a published poet and love poetry. After a lifetime of country living, I'm making a move back to town. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: .. more..Writing
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