The Father's Arms

She said she’d met Him once before
on her knees in the corner of the sanctuary’s floor,
when all her dreams fell again
and she begged for something more, someone
to take the sin away,
to give her a reason to live for today
and while the music filled the quiet place of prayer,
she dwelled on the thoughts and tears
that told her no one was there, yet still she cried
for Him, surrounded by flickering candlelight
and tried to stand but found no strength,
fell into the Father’s arms again.

He said he’d heard the story once before
sitting on the hard, coldness of the worn gym floor,
when the words deeply set in
and broke to his heart’s core, but later,
forgotten by years so quickly flying by
and it became all he could do just to try
again, and wake up every morning with the same pain
the same tearing of worlds
that his every tomorrow seemed to bring, and he walked
but could not run, heard the whispers of distant talk
and traced steps to where he started,
fell into the Father’s arms again.

She said she’d been there once before
walked through the little white chapel’s doors
and sat in the back row
where no one would hear her footsteps on the floor, but now
she struggles to even stand to walk
and her quickly aging voice trembles when she talks
to her daughter, on the phone in her wooden rocking chair
though her ears struggle for sound
just to know someone is there, and she longs
to see where time has so swiftly gone
and if she could remember her faith,
fall into the Father’s arms again.

He said he’d known it once before
that something great awaited the saved in store
and as he falls on knee
to kiss the ground and say goodbye once more, he remembers
the love she brought him through the years,
the joy that gave him life, now bringing him tears
he thinks of her beauty, and her brilliant smile
still radiant as ever with age
that he’ll see again in a while, but as for now
he prays and ask just how
long it will be before he too can go,
fall into the Father’s arms again.