A Poem

I've waged a war beneath the skies,
My swords are prayers, my daggers cries.
My face rests on the feet of God,
My tears have drenched the Heavenly sod.

In darkness deep, a son was born,
A wild joy, a raging scorn.
He is the man for whom I fight,
I pray my prayers defeat his night.

His wicked eyes have called to me,
His grin implores enticingly.
He will not understand my, "no."
If I refuse, I'll hurt him so.

I gaze into my Savior's eyes,
"Don't make me leave him," my heart cries.
"Please, wrap him in Your crimson scars,
That precious robe of rosy stars."

When he's nearby, I sense a heat,
A fire from Hell grasps at his feet.
"Dear LORD, pour blood upon that flame,
Return the blaze from where it came."

"Oh God, cast down Your stars and moons,
Let oceans drown the silver dunes.
But don't allow his soul to cease,
Please, don't destroy Your masterpiece."

* * *

If I am called to let you go,
To make a choice, to tell you, "no,"
I'll take God's hand for Jesus' sake,
But still I know my heart will break.

D. J. U.