in the midst

.

in the midst
in the mist
of my days
only my heart senses
a small understanding
of pain

.

.

I wrote the above because, today, I followed a tweet by Glynn Young
to his Saturday Good Reads post.
And there, under his list of poetry, was a familiar name that caught my eye.
John Blasé …a poem…”20 July 2012″…i clicked on the link.

And this is what i found …

.

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20 July 2012

O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days… ~ Psalm 102.24

The news reporter said you just can’t make sense
of something like this. He referred to understanding,
the singular sense; but what about the plural senses?
I can clearly make senses of something like this for I
see the tears huddling in the corners of my eyes and I
feel the trembling of my hands at the keyboard and I
taste the copper of blood from biting my lips and I
smell the fear that sucks oxygen out of thin air and I
hear the sleeping of my children who for now are
safe as the sun also rises on this dark July morning
that seems, I must report, to make no sense at all.
.
.
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4 thoughts on “in the midst

  1. I appreciate that the psalmist recognized the brevity of his life and the call of God upon it. Sometimes when I am in the midst of my days I am thinking of anything but of to whom my life belongs or the brevity of it.

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