Friday, June 8, 2018

First he loved

After I John 4:7-12

First he loved
me, the disciple whom
he loved, so much
that even when I’m
an old man, sitting on
a rock, staring out
at the sea when I’m
not having visions,
everything falls away,
fading before the memory
of his love, the reality
of his love, the presence
of his love.
It was, it is, it will be.
That’s how he loved –
a look, a touch, a word,
a laugh, a cry, he breathed it
even as he breathed
his final gasp of air
a final grasp of his hand
a final glance toward
us gathered in the dirt
before him. At that moment
his love was finished,
his love was begun.

Photograph by Jacob Meyer via Unsplash. Used with permission.


Louise Gallagher said...

A beautiful poem Glynn.

I am in awe of your faith and capacity to express it with such grace.

Glynn said...

Louise, thank you!