Christopher’s Song

I wish I could say that I am sorry,
For the pain you are feeling now,
I could heal your broken heart,
If I made a brand new start,
But I’ve always been too late somehow.
I wish I could say I am sorry.

I wish I could send you a letter,
But even if, these lifeless hands, could hold a pen,
No words could convey, or bring back yesterday,
So that I could say I am sorry.

Somewhere my will to fight and to do what was right,
Was lost in a crowd of friends,
And now it is too late, I have chosen my fate,
In this moment my short life ends.
I wish I could say I am sorry.

“Be inspired, be blessed”

The Master’s Pen

© The National Library of Congress

A Knock On My Door

A pain in my heart which seeped through my soul,
Wretched, tortuous agony,
A prayer that I surface from this deep dark hole,
From this hellish misery.

Oh my God! Oh no! Tell me it is not so,
Someone made a big mistake!
Holy Spirit! Oh Jesus! Oh God! Let me know,
It’s a bad dream from which I will awake.

My Christopher! My love! My precious grandson!
God’s blessed gift to me,
He was weak, he was strong, he was life, he was love,
He was gifted to be able to see.

Deeper than most, into the good things of life,
And into hellish evil too,
He would battle each day with inward strife,
Believing  that God would see him through.

But now there came a knock on my door,
And all of a sudden I knew,
His spirit was willing, but his flesh was weak,
Yet I know!  God has seen him through.

To a “better place,” where he said he would go,
Where no evil spirit or foe,
Could cause him to suffer anymore,
Through the valleys he walked below.

For now he walks on pastures green,
Beside a crystal sea,
Where one day soon, with him I will share,
Blessed eternity.

Be inspired, be blessed
The Master’s Pen

The Drummer’s Sound

I feel I am spinning, spinning, spinning, on a great merry go round,
Everyone is asking questions, yet no answers have been found,
Music places, voices, faces, everything around me races,
Faster, faster, is the cry, we must rush before we die.

I am young but I am tired, it seems so much has transpired,
Since I came onto earth’s all confusing stage,
I have heard so many voices, offering so many choices,
Yet I feel I am trapped within a stifling cage.

Should I get off, I am thinking now and yet I feel somewhere, somehow,
I have a key to set those free who ride with me,
I know that I am in this place, to change the race to the Drummer’s pace,
Which sounds like heaven’s jubilee.

The beat is love and joy and peace and as my spinning starts to cease,
I must tell those still spinning around to stop!……
And listen for the Drummer’s sound.

“Be inspired, be blessed”
The Master’s Pen