joy in the mourning: a poem

they say weeping may tarry for the night
but joy comes with the morning;
then why is my pillow still wet
as dawn breaks?

why does daybreak find me still reeling?
still crying out
still asking for
help, comfort, relief.

this grief is one that lingers,
a thorn that pricks no matter how
i twist and turn and shift
to avoid its sharp touch.

i wake and wince; as this thorn again
and again each morning presses me
to his feet,
to his word.

his face becomes nearer and dearer to me
as i cling ever tighter,
giving thanks for the very pain
that presses me closer.

i cry; he hears.
i surrender; and i see—
that maybe, maybe somehow
there is a joy that comes with the mourning.

4 thoughts on “joy in the mourning: a poem

  1. Emahiser3 says:

    Thank you Lauren for sharing from your heart; your words always touch me so deeply! Praying the Lord will soon give you your heart’s desire! ❤️🙏

    Sent from April’s iPhone


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