A Woman at Rest

[Joyfulsong]

A woman’s shoulders are broad to carry the burdens of life.
Her eyes mirror the joys as well as sorrows and strife.

She cries when no one is looking - she laughs to hide the tears
She’s brave in the face of danger – yet inside feels some fear.

She has wise words for the soul who’s downtrodden and forlorn
And she knows how to heal a heart from ridicule and scorn.

In the quiet refuge of the night, before slipping off to sleep
She’s on her knees in prayer to ask the Lord to keep

All her loved ones safe from harm and blessings to be bestowed,
Always thinking of others without feeling that she’s owed.

Her reward is coming – the Lord does not forget
And He will surely bless her and give her tranquil rest…

He knows that rest is quite deserved and long, long over due
And once she’s revitalized with hope
She’ll be totally renewed.

The fear shall all but dissipate – the tears no more will fall
She’ll laugh and love and smile again and be able to stand tall.

Her shoulders once again will carry
The burdens of those she loves

And she’ll smile knowing that she is not alone
But upheld by Him above.

Until she needs to rest again.

[Xenia]

Beautiful! This reminds me of that book by John and Staci Eldridge - the one for women. I can't think of the title now :p Women at rest was a big theme in that book and one that fascinates me... It's almost an oxymoron to my mind but your poem inspires hope and comfort. I really enjoyed it!

[Joyfulsong]

Lorrie:

Thank you for the kind words - I was hoping "Women at Rest" would minister to someone.

Poetry for me is an outlet as well as an inlet for emotions, etc.

God Bless!

[Joyfulsong]

The Tapestry

My life is like a patchwork quilt,
Squares of mismatched multicolored cloth
That’s hard and soft at the same time.
The reds are for the hurts and cuts and bruises
I received.

The blues for all the loneliness and the lies
That I believed

The yellows were some sunshine that followed
After rain,

The blacks and browns are deeper hurts -
Ones that caused real pain.

The plaids and stripes and polka dots
Cannot really be described -

Perhaps they ar the unknown fears
Or confusion deep inside.

These swatches of hues are bound together with simple cotton thread

And backed with a matting and one large
Sheet of fabric

Made to lie upon a bed or hang from hooks upon a wall,

Never really changing

Except

To be shaken of the surface dust that gathers
In the fabric pores
Which, if left unattended, would contribute to a slow decay
And a final ripping apart,

Eventually to be discarded with other things
That are perceived to be no longer useful or pretty.

But the Master comes with His healing touch
And sees in that mundane thing a work of art!

And wish great care and detail weaves those same
Threads into a beautiful living tapestry,

Eventually to grace a place of honor
In His heavenly throne room.

The Master Weaver once again takes something
That is faded and drab and without life

And creates an expression of His beauty and delight!

des

[lynnmosher]

Joyoful, what a wonderful tribute to women. Thank you. Your sentiments are so true. Just a suggestion...I think you might need to delete the other poem as the showcase is for individual works. Then submit it separately for the showcase.