The Widows Cry.

Stolen from me, cruel death,
I saw him breathe his final breath.
A widow now, what tragedy,
Alone, no one to fend for me.
All things work for good they said,
Where's the good, my husbands dead?
Who will dig the garden now,
Drive that car, I don't know how?
My heart is broken; life is marred.
I've wept all night my mind is scarred.
Oh Lord my God this is my plea,
Who then, will now watch over me?

My daughter, I have seen your tears,
Your pain and those related fears.
Whilst you walk this desert land,
I will be there to hold your hand.
There is a day when death shall cease,
A brand new world, a place of peace.
When all in Christ, all of His fold,
Will walk the heavenly streets of gold.
No coffins there, no walking canes,
No more disease, no more back pains.
But all men raised, yes your man too
Will praise the Lamb, give Him His due.

This poem was a finalist in the March 2010 poetry contest