Poetry From The Heart
Poetry From The Heart
I Am Home
To fly among the clouds and soar above the earth with the wings of an angel...
To have touched the face of God and be embraced by His loving arms...
To walk along the streets paved with gold and climb the walls imbedded with precious stones...
To wave to one and all and know the love and peace that each has to share...
To smell the fresh blossoms of newly opened flowers and taste the purifying waters of the stream of life...
To hear the voices of the animals and songs of the birds, joined together in a symphony of wonderous harmony...
To say to death, where is Thy victory, for I am HOME!
By Carol Ann Gainey-Tucker
My Masters' Hands
My Masters hands were soft as down and as fragile as a feather when He reached to touch his Mothers face.
My Masters hands were full of youthful joy and wonder, while He sat and taught in the Temple.
My Masters hands were worn and bruised as He worked with wood and nails, beside His Father as a carpenter.
My Masters hands are full of strength and calm as He lays them upon the bodies of the sick and dying and the lame and crippled.
My Masters hands are as gentle as a lambs fleece and His arms outstretched ready to gather all the children into them.
My Masters hands are shaking with anger and rage, His words are loud and rough, as He chases money changers from the Temple.
My Masters hands are bleeding and scared now under the weight of a huge and heavy cross with which He had to carry through the streets of town.
My Masters hands are lifted upwards now, toward His Heavenly home and then He says...
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