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A poem on restoration
Splintered wood
Cracks spreading
This is the moment
The table has been dreading
A shuddering collapse
Legs buckle and break
As the table crumples
Under its own weight
But this tragic table
Once broken by pain
Will be rebuilt by His hands
And will stand again
There is no doubt that it will. The ending brought up this Scripture to my mind:
‘Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.
The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.’ —Psalm 138:7-8.
Dawn & Dusk 
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