A Short Testament
Whatever harm I may have done
In all my life in all your wide creation
If I cannot repair it
I beg you to repair it,
And then there are all the wounded
The poor the deaf the lonely and the old
Whom I have roughly dismissed
As if I were not one of them.
Where I have wronged them by it
And cannot make amends
I ask you
To comfort them to overflowing,
And where there are lives I may have withered around me,
Or lives of strangers far or near
That I’ve destroyed in blind complicity,
And if I cannot find them
Or have no way to serve them,
Remember them. I beg you to remember them
When winter is over
And all your unimaginable promises
Burst into song on death’s bare branches.
–Anne Porter
Gladsome Lights 
Ah. Yes.
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Lovely poem. Thank you!
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Oh thank you for this heart cry in your poem! I say yes and amen.
Brenda
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Perhaps I should wait until the tears pass to post a comment…
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Very lovely, GJ.
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Wonderful poem.
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OH, this sooo speaks to my late contemplations for Lent! This is wonderful…thank you sooo much for sharing!
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This resonates with me. Thank you.
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I told the preacher a couple of Sunday's ago…”you're a good preacher, you tread on the tops and I walk on the bottoms.” That's how I feel about this poem.
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Oh, it causes a little dart to shoot into my heart.
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Thank you for introducing me to Anne Porter. She must have been an amazing person.
Jules
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I like this so very much. Thank you.
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