No Fictitious Season

Life’s current season

‘Tis not by least fictitious

Though surreal it seems

Who would write these dour chapters

As if romantic drama


Yes, we will come through

With grit, faith, some survive all

But we need to weep

Not suppress tears, freely flood

Wash out stress-filled fears, anguish


The Lord Himself wept

Old saints’ prayers pool ‘neath their feet

Desperate, fervent pleas

Rescue, deliv’rance, relief

Grateful praise sung at morning

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

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