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Separated.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


          Separated.....

I wore a pale blue open shirt

My jeans had seen some years

I saw his smile concealed the hurt

The flowing of his tears

 

I knew his face and he knew mine

Our eyes displayed it clear

Silent; we shared the bread and wine

Praying in reverent fear

 

With bibles firm in each our hand

Standing there face to face

So blessed in truth to understand

The wonders of God’s grace

 

I still recall him as a child

As yesterday quite plain

How much alive, yet never wild

Throughout our times of pain

 

We lost our mother, father too

Most relatives had died

Afraid and wondering what we’d do

Struggling as we cried

 

I saw him leave with Uncle Joe

And I with Aunty Clair

Why did my brother have to go?

Leaving me standing there

 

No word was heard nothing was seen

Through all the years that passed

But each learning on Christ to lean

Rejoined in Him at last

 

Through Jesus love we’re one again

We’ll enter Heaven’s gates

The lonesome years were not in vain

Eternity awaits…..


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Submitted: Saturday, August 31, 2013

Last Updated: Saturday, August 31, 2013

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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