Thursday, 5 August 2010

Home: A poem

In the desert a voice is calling
Faint and soft it comes to me
Loud the sound of world surrounding
“Come home”, a faint yet persistent plea.

I look and see, yet in the distance
A tree, a great and glorious sight
And all around me falls a silence
“Come home”, a voice that’s clear and bright.

“Me?” I say surprised and startled
Yet my feet they draw me near
“But I’m a sinner, torn and troubled”
Maybe I doth simple mishear.

“You!” the thunderous voice resounded
“See upon the tree he hung”
“My son delivered to death unbounded”
“That your misdeeds be none.”

With mournful glee I run unhindered
Through the desert round about
A sentence, just, has been rescinded
“Coming home”, I cry and shout.

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