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Doctrine by Tempest
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And should I turn
To the Spirit,
How shall she say
Or guide?
To love in all things,
Though that
Can be a mystery
Like faith
And should I ask for grace
Or is that bestowed
In quantities
Already
Measured out by God,
Dispensed by angels?
I don’t know,
I think grace might be wild,
Ready to fall itself
Into the crisis
Spreading all the elements
And changing time
For
Working things,
Which means perhaps
That prayer
Is unchained, too,
And to do so
Into the storm
In terror
And unformed bequest
Well, it counts
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C L Couch
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Hurricane Map
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August 21, 2021 at 12:13 pm
I sense the urgency and swirl of emotion in this poem. I enjoyed reading it very much.
August 21, 2021 at 12:16 pm
Oh, I’m glad the urgency came through. Crises come unformed. And prayer can thus be unformed, too. Thank you.
August 23, 2021 at 3:27 am
Loving it. Thanks!
August 23, 2021 at 10:14 pm
I’m thankful for your reaction and response. I hope you and yours–among them the Scampers–are really well.