I am cleaning and organizing my desk-- a task that has not been done since we moved into this house, lo, more than 6 years ago. That is a frightening proposition, but with digging through piles and file folders, comes fruit. I ran across some writings by my children. And being fresh off of my anniversary celebration, I thought I would share one of my eldest son's lovely poems. God has given him a gift with words!
A Sonnet for my Wife by Ben Finnegan
How can I start, with what sincerest words
should I presume to some humility
or sadly boast of all my faults and failures,
or maybe calmly raise the possibility
that mine are not the hands that I would wish
to feel your fragile faith or touch your trust,
that I am fallen, broken, a work unfinished
shaped by shameful sins and lowly lusts?
While I am earthware, dust and gilded wire,
my frame and substance all corruption, you
lift your eyes and pray refining fire
because your love for me is pure and true.
You are the clay the same as i, but bold,
bravely, humbly daring to be gold.
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1 comment:
Beautiful.
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