Every Aching Question

There’s a mountain of cloud

in the humming pink northeastern sky,

darker and more looming than the coming night.

But it changes – the weather always changes;

That night it never rained.

 

There’s a pain in my heart

that started long before I came.

A long lesson to learn:

Few things ever stay the same.

 

I have an aching question

and the answer often brings a sigh;

it has to do with one I hope will come in time.

But it changes – my dreaming often changes;

I don’t want a heart that’s tame.

 

I loved one who was a child yet, and so was I,

though he was so patient and oh, so kind.

And it changed me; the ones we love, they change us.

We’ll never be the same.

 

Rebecca and I talk of God’s goodness in both our lives;

how he doesn’t change, and we’re not alone,

and this is best, and this is best.

Our lives are in his hands.

 

Nothing I could do,

and nothing I have ever done,

could ever make him love me less or love me more

than the day they were handing out just deserts

and he gave me his,

and he took my place,

in the line of those wanting,

with nothing,

bound to die.

 

Every mountain of cloud,

every pain in my heart,

every aching question,

he holds the answer to.

And he does not ever change,

although, praise him,

he makes things new.

 

 

 

 

July 2005

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