Eastview
Our eyes are drawn eastward,
or maybe it’s hopeward,
looking with our hearts, too,
for some glimmer
or possibility onto which
we can hang our dreams.
On the face of it,
life seems to be losing,
as death taunts us
with its victories;
yet somewhere
deep in our bones,
a candle flickers
in the darkness,
beckoning us
toward each other,
if not tomorrow.
Squeeze our hand,
O holy one,
so that we have
an undeniably palpable sense
of your presence
in this storm,
and turn our focus toward
those who walk beside us,
so that we know
we’re not alone.
Thump, thump,
thump, thump;
help us feel the heartbeat.
When I was still a Christian, one of the things that comforted me when I was anxious was to imagine God holding my hand, so this really spoke to that younger part of me. Thank you.
'or maybe it's hopeward' 🥹💜
Always, your poems speak to my soul. Thank you.
Thank you.
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Eastview
Our eyes are drawn eastward,
or maybe it’s hopeward,
looking with our hearts, too,
for some glimmer
or possibility onto which
we can hang our dreams.
On the face of it,
life seems to be losing,
as death taunts us
with its victories;
yet somewhere
deep in our bones,
a candle flickers
in the darkness,
beckoning us
toward each other,
if not tomorrow.
Squeeze our hand,
O holy one,
so that we have
an undeniably palpable sense
of your presence
in this storm,
and turn our focus toward
those who walk beside us,
so that we know
we’re not alone.
Thump, thump,
thump, thump;
help us feel the heartbeat.
When I was still a Christian, one of the things that comforted me when I was anxious was to imagine God holding my hand, so this really spoke to that younger part of me. Thank you.
'or maybe it's hopeward' 🥹💜
Always, your poems speak to my soul. Thank you.
Thank you.