Love Sees Like a Child
...fractions in me
I’m here
to
speak
of
quiet love,
soft healing.
Hopeful
love
of “glimpses,”
“gifts”
given
from
Above.
Good Friday came.
But so did Sunday.
Mourning came.
But so did Sunday.
Pain and agony came.
But so did Sunday.
The Son
showed up.
Our son
showed up.
The one in
our heavy
story.
Suddenly,
love
showed up
on Easter
Sunday
but love
was
always there.
We love
We love
we sacrifice.
We turn
the
other cheek.
One day
our children
will
be old
like us.
They will
have
many
Fridays.
We love,
but not
the way
God loves.
The way
a child
loves.
We will
our
minds
to never
truly
understand
the concept
of what
Sunday,
means.
We forget.
Go on.
But go on
living
and
hoping
and
praying.
Quietly.
I say
to you…
Hand it
over to
Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday, Thursday,
Friday, Saturday
..and Sunday.
Master
key holder
take
our story
of pain
and
sadness.
Love never
looks
for love.
Love is.
You might
look up
from a rainy
parking lot
one day,
or
a park,
and see
Sunday
came
to the
most
sacred
little places
of your
heart..
Children with
our last
name
sitting next
to us
on
old pews.
Easter
Sunday’s story.
Our story
on Sunday
filled
the building
with love
not
heartache.
“Where did He go?
where is He?”
Everywhere.
In your
heart.
She touched
her heart.
Crayon
to paper.
Our no-mega
church.
Pastor
went on
speaking.
We
went on
healing.
Papa played
his double bass
on Sunday.
A red
heart
grew.
I bowed
my head.
A whisper..
“Look nana.”
Holding
hands.
Fractions
in me
of faith
and hope
and love.
Slow
and steady
..living
everyday.
Love is
the greatest
beauty.
Love
like a child..
Hope
like a child.
I love you
forever son.
Thank you
God
for
Sunday.
My turn for tears. This is so poetry. There’s always something special about a Sunday. It’s a feeling. You put words to something that’s really hard to do. Thank you so much Deborah 🙏❤️
Beautiful. I particularly love: "We Will our minds to never truly understand the concept of what Sunday, means."