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Come

Father,

Your Son, Jesus,

Is the  cause of my ease,

If I sow my soul

With His words of touch,

His invitation --

Come to me all you

Beat from soul-toil,

Jaded and bored

With the world's words,

Wan and ashen

From doubt's gloom, and

My Touch will ease all.

Come to Me all you

Soul-saddle  sore from the debris of sin-carry,

It's pack dead weight, and

My Touch will ease all.

Only, wear My yoke,  not

Of hard worn wood and chains,

No, but of soft giving leather, and

Listen

To My Heart's Pulse,

Open ALWAYS to My Father,

Even as My Heart sweat Blood

In the Garden, and

Flowed from My Side

On the Skull Mount.

Yes,

Wear My yoke

Of will abandonment

To the Father,

And,

Life

Will be light and easy.

[Matthew 11:28-30]

Posted to Religious by Peter O'Brien @ 11:36 pm EDT
Peter, if you would like to submit this poem to WC it could be part of the new poets contest. Perhaps that is what you intended.  Please submit it by going to the home page and scrolling down and click on Visitor then click on add a poem.  Best wishes.  Quentin Clingerman
Posted by Que Clingerman on 7/7/2011 @ 7:59 am EDT

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