Here I am

God paints the sunrise with the softest blues

And loverly, effervescent yellows

If I were a bird, it’d be my featherbed

And if I were a melody, it’d be my complement

 

But here I am

 

I have been born in the wispy morning clouds

To be my dreams in whatever way I choose

What a shame it is to not claim the afternoon

Or early evening, to block out the risen moon

 

But here I am

 

What hope can I give in dreams of dreams?

The dry, barren ground beneath pleads

Yet once more I disappoint, being a cloud of a cloud

Heavier yet, I’d be more than a sound of a sound

 

But here I am

 

I watch as the day lengthens, but I’m still here

In remembrance of the blues and yellows and myself

I take a step back and see God painting the scene

It is He who decides if and when I rain, not me

 

And here I am

 

One day I will not feign

Holding hopes in the unfallen rain

Someday, I will sing

On-listeners reverberating

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Stories From Honduras

Lena Kvigne // Missionary

The Wandering Poet

Footsteps, Footprints and Words

The Holly Tree Tales

Stories and philosophy, borne out of my own experiences of life on three continents.

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