Heavy
What is this fascination,
with all that’s gloom and doom?
Why’s every injury and slight,
perceived and given room?
Why do we look for hurt,
in every glance and act,
Why do we feel unworthy,
no matter how we act?
This leaves us lugubrious,
as Eyore-like we strive,
To decipher our surrounding,
and find a way to thrive.
If only we could believe the news,
That all are precious here,
That God is in his heaven,
and love will conquer fear.
Anne Selleck
Copyright 2020
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