When I started to fume,
God grabbed me in his arms
impossibly strong and tender
and said, dear one,
don’t build our house too small
and I dropped my hammer
and nails and noticed
how fine the breeze
without walls.
May 4, 2018 by Rosemerry
When I started to fume,
God grabbed me in his arms
impossibly strong and tender
and said, dear one,
don’t build our house too small
and I dropped my hammer
and nails and noticed
how fine the breeze
without walls.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged god, home, poem, poetry, potential, walls | 3 Comments
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I like it. Just wonder what you were fuming about and what “our house” refers to. –Yours and God’s? I know i shouldn’t be so literal but just wondered Nice metaphor.
Wow!
Hi Nan, thanks for the comment … it is, of course, all very metaphorical. As for the fuming, the truth is I don’t even remember what it was about, just the feeling of annoyance and frustration. Isn’t that how it is, we can get all worked up over something so inconsequential we don’t even remember it later. And as for the “our,” yes, i took it as mine and God’s AND I suppose, as a much larger our, too. Isn’t it funny that it is only now that I took it as a church. That wasn’t the implication i originally understood …