Your Cart
Your items
Cart is empty.
Fill your cart with amazing items
Shop Nowbdfg
Keep Shopping

The Grieving Father

My soul was wrung like a rag, then hung
In a winter’s night to chill;
I continued to cry when the tears ran dry
And my heart is frozen still.

My son is gone, death stilled his song,
My mind is in a twist;
I grasp the sod as I kneel to God
And pray that He exists!

How I plead, for I so need
To know His promise real,
That death’s harsh sting becomes a thing
The mourner needn’t feel.

I flex my will, “Oh mind, be still;
Oh heart, please open wide!
For reason fails, but truth prevails
As the Spirit works inside.”

My exhausted soul, like a dusty hole,
Feels springlets burst within;
The Spirit speaks and soon my cheeks
Are moist with tears again.

Tears of joy! I feel my boy
Is gone from but my sight!
He LIVES today, in truth I say,
By God, I KNOW it’s right!

Now photographs of times and laughs,
But later, face to face;
Come soon, come late, I’ll have to wait,
But, oh, how we’ll embrace!

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.



Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Get The Latest News

Subscribe To receive updates

Ready to stay in the loop? It only takes a moment, and you’ll receive all the latest updates right in your inbox!

poem categories

Shopping Cart