Sunday, April 24, 2016

Hope Lost, Hope Found

Hope Lost, Hope Found
©2016 Susan Noyes Anderson

The heavy desert heat
assaulted her,
shut down her cool,
absorbed her essence,
stole from her the
right to breathe.

It beat her down,
ran out her sweat,
forged salty rivers of regret,
offered no respite
cool or sweet;
mercy the forfeit.

Faith melted,
trickled into sand,
sank deeper than
her sun-seared hand.
Left thirst unsated.

Her plight, in purple
mountains framed,
subdued then claimed
the fight within.
Broken she bowed,
her end avowed.

The day was lost;
the angels cried.
Her spirit, vanquished
from inside,
yielded to pain.
But then...the rain.

Hope born again.


Hope warms my heart,
especially in the most trying circumstances.
It comes most often, I believe, in God's tender mercies...
like cooling rain…
and living water.

"For the Lamb…shall lead them unto living fountains of waters;
and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes."
Revelation 7:17

"…And the same shall be in [them] a well of living water,
springing up unto everlasting life."
D&C 63:23

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Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Rise Up

©2016 Susan Noyes Anderson

"You're the worst decision I ever made,"
he said. It nearly knocked her dead.
She'd given him her heart so long ago.
She didn't know how much that gift would cost
and she had lost herself. She wasn't faultless…

But she was not less.

She only felt less…less than the woman 
she had been. She'd conjure up that girl again.
It wasn't easy. Stung by the words that left
his lips, the vicious slams, sarcastic quips,
she cut him no slack...battled her way back.

God, help her stay back.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Love Is Patient; Love Is Kind

Feeling a little out of sorts last week, I wrote this poem to myself.
(I think it worked!)

©2016 Susan Noyes Anderson

When wells of love in me run dry,
and I no longer see
the cup of living water
kindness offers up to me;

When anger veils my tender view,
and shadows dim my soul;
When I feel cheated of my due,
and giving takes its toll;

When those around me seem to merit
naught but martyred sighs,
the answer is to look upon them
with our Savior's eyes.

My vision, through a darkened glass,
is blurred by shades of pride.
His charity, if I but ask,
will light me up inside.

Compassion is a gift of grace,
born in humility.
May I seek Christ in every face
and find His love in me.

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