Sunday Sonnet!

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Outside the camp their villains crucified,
A fitting end who patronage disdain,
No matter gold with dross identified,
Stigma of vile rejection shall remain;
Offenders with Offenceless, side by side,
Hang eerily against a darkening sky,
While Grace supremely reigns, to none denied,
The world of mourners seems to go awry;
Sad followers in desolation leave,
Save huddled group at foot of central tree,
The passing of Beloved One to grieve,
Unmindful that His passing sets them free.
Inside the camp hypocrisy persists,
Where naked compromise of truth exists.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Benedictions in my life abound,
Bestowed, unearned, by gen’rous Grace Divine,
Yet, fear-filled thoughts my trust in Him confound,
Preventing would and would-not to align;
As though in constant conflict they engage,
Stalwarts of Doubt and Faith heave to and fro;
Instead of seeking suffering to assuage,
They seem to thrive on propagating woe;
Can Hope, so deeply rooted in the heart,
Restore semblance of sanity in mind,
Lest vestiges of trust from me depart,
Phantoms of emptiness be left behind?
Recount your benedictions giving thanks,
As curative, it as the premier ranks.

©Meanderings 2018

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