Lit'ral Rache a poem by Glenn R. Whicker, October 2003 |
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I have a little sister Who goes by 'Rachie Mae,' She's quite the little pun'kin Most every single day.
She was a gift from heaven When I had just turned 10, I thought she was quite pretty Even so small back then.
She always was quite 'nervy' From the day she was born They'd itch, pop and keep her up "Sleep - what's that?" Mom would mourn!
Silky nightgowns were all the rage She must have worn them in heaven, 'Cause she had to have one near Until she was seven!
She's always been the tough one, The going, it got rough. But Rachael never murmurs, She's made of real good stuff!
I don't know how to tell her I love her oh, so much! I wish that I could be there To hold her hand and touch.
But since her skin's been blistered I'm sure the touch would hurt - You see she was a fryer And got her skin real burnt.
They say our God has reserved High Heaven's mighty spire For those who've been found yielding To the refiner's fire. |
Well here's one gal, I tell ya Who's answered every call - I guess she took it lit'ral And got right on the ball.
I hear it wasn't much fun To go through such a fire; But look how refined she is - The strength she did acquire.
She now feels so much better After this latest test Dross has been burned outta her She's come thru with more zest.
I hope she'll now be happy 'Bout how she has survived And keep her life more simple So bod and soul can thrive.
I make one point dear sister With earnest thoughtfulness; You need not think me stupid - This concept I must stress:
When God said, in His wisdom, "If thine eye offend thee, Pluck it from its socket..." Listen to my strong plea -
He means that it's your spirit Should be in control at all time. So please don't poke your eye out - It makes one oh, so blind!
Don't take it all so lit'ral, I pray, my dear good friend. Look deeper for the meaning - Much better in the end! |