Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Little Black Lamb

Fleeing from You
nothing he sees
of Your going before him
as he flees.

Choosing his own paths
how could he know
Your hand directs where he shall go?

Thinking himself free
-free at last-
unaware Your right hand
holds him fast.

Waiting for darkness
to hide in sight,
not knowing, with you
dark is light.

Poor prodigal!
seeking a "where" from "whence"...
how does one escape

~Ruth Bell Graham

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