A young lady prayed, kneeling to the Lord. 
“Father, I have met many obstacles, my life a discord. 
My body is so weary the pain so unbearable. 
A sad life has become a continuous parable. 
 
“The roads of my mind is scalloped with past despair. 
All the lashes of deceit have taken my care. 
My journey onward is scarred with anguish, health now shorn. 
Many trials occur, heartache continually borne. 
 
Tears trickled from her eyes in sorrow, weeping the cold. 
Suddenly appearing before her, his soothing voice echoed. 
Her compassionate eyes gazed upon his many wounds deep. 
Around each one a drop of blood clung, a sacrificial seep. 
 
A soft gentle voice whispered, “Have Faith My Child.” 
His soft eyes were so warm manner serene and mild. 
Taking her hand, he led to a meadow with withering flowers, barely alive. 
“Winter will soon freeze this beauty, next year again thrive. 
 
“Like these blooms, you must have faith from it much will be grown, 
With a new meadow in your life it will be sewn.” 
Again He whispered, “Have faith my child, all is not lost.” 
The wind carried his whisper, on it forever his words were embossed. 
 
In awe the young lady thanked the Lord for his loving visit that day,
Hearing the wind, whispering the words, “Have Faith My Child,“ showing her way. 
Again she knelt to pray, giving her gratitude for her new life to be. 
Knowing though the road may become difficult, it was carried by eternity. 
 

Dorothy E. Scott  poetry99@txol.net

Copyright 2001