Poetry - Inspirational Series #2
Holy is the ground where spills blood
of the innocent for My name's sake.
Holy is the place where a martyr grave
the most sacred and complete gift.
A similitude of Mine own sacrifice,
a token of My Son's gift.
Angels remain as sentinels;
standing guard and bearing witness.
(c) 2012 Lurlynn L. Potter
Half Dome, Yosemite, CA
Ancient trees stand straight and tall
Their view is wise and settled
Roots grow deeper with each year
Rings their history tell.
Birds and animals come and go
Lives are lived, then gone.
But within the soil, in ancient times
Is a cry from innocent blood
A primeval war or a heinous crime
Rises up with the scent of wet earth
And the Redwood trees with their wisdom of old
Remember and stand as a witness.