In those days, the little church we were part of met at our home.

The worship is ended,
The brethren are leaving,
Their voices and laughter
Fade into the sun.
So silent the prayer room
Just hallowed by praising,
It all feels so empty
And still and alone.

A flash in my mind
And a quick recognition
Of the Presence who stays with me
All the day long.
I kneel at His feet
As I feel healing comfort,
And glory He changed
Lonesome tears to a song.

-n- 6 May 1996

[Disclaimer: I am not proud of most of the “poetry” that I have penned in my lifetime. I am no poet, but most of these poems were written at times when prose could not have provided the necessary expression and release of emotion. My poems are as important to me as singing may to be to someone who is not endowed with a singing voice—it justifiably fulfills a need. Thus, although not primarily meant for the consumption of the wider audience, it has a place in my blog, which, as I have mentioned before, also functions as a platform for my own retrieval and use.]