I had a choice that day:
Listening to the empathic wailing
Of the women
At my husband’s wake,
Feeling the deadness
In my chest:
Too much grief to express
And so every cell screaming in pain
Where tears were trapped.
A choice:
To live my life in bitterness
Slowly building
Internal prison walls
To keep pain out
But which would only
Embalm it unhealed.
The other:
Instead to seek life;
Lament my pain to God,
Show Him the secret places
Of my heartache
And hope
For His deliverance.
And then one day
Hope came
In a in tiny child
Of impoverished parents
And I knew at last
God was with me.
Poem by Jeannie Kendall, reproduced with permission
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