I slept; but with my heart awakening
I rose to catch the Garden’s early scent.
Gone was the trodden Plant, Whose fragrance spent
I’d reconcoct with myrrh and spice for sorrowing.
Has Love withdrawn to sicker suffering ?
I sought my Love, but found nowhere He went.
Then, turning round, I see Him and repent
of tears that weren’t for joy, but worrying.
I want to hold Him tight. As soon, he speaks :
‘My love is strong as death; but stronger still
this Life you cannot hold on earth or kill.’
The Lord my strength my song, his glory breaks !
An Ark I dream of in the heavens climbs,
Its anchor to my soul : I’m here all times.
(c) Mark Woodruff, 30 November 1996