Poem February 17, 1973 Issue

COMFORTED

Margery Todahl Blokhine

There was no way, it seemed, to lift the stone
That was my heart; no way, it seemed, to write
The beauty I so loved. Alone, alone,
Dinned in my ears; and morning, noon, and night
Weighted the hours, darkened dawn, and stole
All color from the world. (My lawless thought
Meant spiritual anarchy, for to be whole
I knew well where to turn, yet I would not.)

At last I bowed my stubborn head and wept,
"Father, forgive me for ignoring You.
Your guidance, love, and strength have always kept
Me joyous . . . free . . . atop a high plateau."

Then comforted, recalling lessons learned,
I knew His truth again would be confirmed.

Margery Todahl Blokhine

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