where’s my home
under country sky and watchful eye
of demonic evil host?
O Lord, where’s a home of my own?
where is my bride
unfaithful as I with greatly lusting eye
never resting at my side?
Bridegroom, where’s a bride of my own?
where is my son
disobedient as I, whining with “Why?”
who from Wisdom runs?
Abba Father, where’s a son of my own?
For Lord, a strong desire in my mire
gives thoughts to my heart, igniting a fire
which burns until I am tired
and thus I ask for good
which now would be for bad.
So Christ, give love from above
with the Spirit as a dove.
For though this season is tough
I might discern the good
from what may be to me for bad.
And Father, give strength that at length
myself all spent
following canon unbent
Your ordinances kept to teach me good
and wisdom to see such may be for bad.
For if I’ve no love now
I’ll have none then
when life I’ve spent unfaithful
and all statutes broken
turning all from faith and friends.
Just An Impatient Servant -an original poem