Made it with a whole six minutes to spare. :0)
I speak a prayer and hear a hush;
but, though I stand quite still,
a silence in an emptiness
is all the grace that hush reveals.
My feeble faith can only wait
through nights of bleak despair;
how cruel to stand at heaven's gate
if no-one's home to care.
Time passes. Now my temper's tried:
St Peter's out of town,
the angels all much occupied,
and Jesus can't be found.
No option then, no other course -
the situation's grave -
despair has but this last resource -
that she herself her self might save.
Assembled: courage, dignity,
and remnant scraps of hope;
a friend adds expectation; she
exhorts to greater, brighter scope.
Then days limp by: at painful cost
I push my frail intent
to grasp how so much hurtling loss
aspires to high ascent.
Until, at length, breaks that new day
when skies are still and clear.
In that sweet hush, knows straightway
that peace that comes with prayer.
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