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Thursday, Dec. 18, 2014

Your Answer Is Near

Posted Monday, February 28, 2011, at 6:56 AM

He was a humble man with the wisdom of years

Her life was a story of betrayal, hurt and tears

The beauty of the flower he could recognize

But he was poor and unwanted in many eyes

Helpless he watched as the flower was walked on

Weeds and thorns around the flower have grown

Daily he prays that the flower would grow again

Remembering this is a place where he had been

The flower does not see nor does it hear

That which she is looking for is very near

He is not a poet but he does understand

Quietly he stretches out his hand

Thorns prick his skin as he pulls weeds

This man gives the flower the love he needs

The flower looks away as she searches the sky

A lonely tear drops and she questions why

His heart aches as he remains her friend

Anguish fills his heart as strong winds bend

That which you seek for is not in the skies

Nearby is a man who who for you cries

.....peace.....


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This is a beautiful poem. Thanks Gordon for this inspiration.

-- Posted by swift on Mon, Feb 28, 2011, at 2:56 PM

This poem came from two sources.

First, from something last year.

A woman who has an innocent spirit at the invitation of a church elder met with him privately. In a sadly all-to-familiar scenario came a thinly disguised invitation.

She was deeply wounded. She despised her beauty. Uncomfortable at being looked at by any man. I listened much, spoke little, and prayed much for my friend. And then I met her husband. A man of humility and wisdom who would do anything for his wife but was unable to rescue her from this place.

He spoke of how his wife loved the poetry I wrote and how truth seemed to come alive when she read the words. And how the words she shared with him would always be the very same thing he had been trying to say to her but she did not hear.

I understood. His words were water. My words were ice cubes. They were "cooler" but it was the same truth.

The next time (and last time) my friend and I spoke of this matter I told her to listen to her husband's words...and to let him be her hero. Her peace returned.

Secondly, a "poetic exchange" on a Native American poetry site and joining a small men's group exploring the heart of a man in a one week span. The contrasts of the words of the women on the site and the men in the group was enlightening. Men who want to be heroes and women who have seen too many zeroes.

Want To Be not Wannabe

I want to be your friend not your lover

The beauty of who you are discover

I want to be your friend not your lover

Giving freedom to breathe not smother

I want to be your friend not your lover

Fly side-by-side not above you hover

I want to be your friend not your lover

To know the bond of sister and brother

I want to be your friend not your lover

Bring healing not a reason to suffer

I want to be your friend not your lover

In winter give my blanket not uncover

I want to be that friend that you grow to love

As Mother Earth giggles and Father Creator smiles above

.....peace.....

-- Posted by apureheart on Tue, Mar 1, 2011, at 10:22 AM


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I have the heart of a poet, the eye of an artist, and dress like a bum. I am no one important. No title, no position, no authority. Just a normal person. But I know Jesus. And Jesus knows me. And this relationship has changed my life and continues to change my life. I have no desire to be known but great desire for others to know Jesus. I would like to blog about Jesus, christian living, church, hurting, hope. I do not want to lead this blog but follow it wherever it leads.
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