My Pastor, My Friend

I wrote this after the death of my uncle who was also my Pastor.

My son,

you cried for me.

I wept for you, my son.

 

In those moments when you fell,

upon your knees.

I leaned down,

to receive you.

 

Though you followed me,

through all the years.

You weathered,

many a storm.

 

When you laid upon the floor,

broken and bruised.

It was I,

that took the broken pieces and created a new heart.

 

Those tears,

which stained my words pages,

have been received before me,

as a sacrifice.

 

I hear you son,I am coming to receive you.

The love you shared,

 with all my creation,

came at a mighty price.

 

Though broken and tattered,

 you heard my word

through the life you gave to me.

I see you my son, I welcome you home this day