“Father, Find me. Love me. Lead me. Precede me.”….offered by Linda Willows


“Carry this prayer, Let drop my Tear”…..a poem by Linda Willows


Oh my heart, oh my life,
Mother-soul cries from deep.
Dark doorways have told
all the secrets of old.
His soul recoiled and flew away
my son in torment, the unknown took its day.
Fresh wounds crushed all loss
and cut fragile ties.
Unspeakable truth declared in the day
drew blood by the night and he went away.
Lord carry this prayer, Let drop my tear,
my son, my son; his heart could be near.

Could I freeze my own heart or
make it a stone  that I live,
That is a death, there is no give.
God does see, He watches all
His Life we are By Grace his call

Lord carry this prayer, let drop my tear,
my son, my son, his heart could be near.

My soul, my heart
don’t take him far
I bleed within as his turns away
and carries all that burns within,
to hold and keep
as the only note that he did reap.

Oh God call all Love to pour upon us all.
Wash our lives, our hearts, our calls.
Let time be Yours,as we are too,
And choose the days that we cling and come to You.
All hope and love is here to give.
Pray all our hearts to open and live.

Forever is where, we find one another,
Father, mother, son and brother,
Lord, not without your forgiveness and love,
not without the redemption of His dove.
Find me on my knees forgiven,
pleading, praying, calling and driven.

I lost my son and my heart dies within.
The mortal life gave no mercy in the strife;
Now, without a soft and gentle rise as God’s
own Wind to break the strongest wall,
I never yet will see him smile, or laugh
and walk, with blue eyes, sweet and tall.

My heart, my soul, My God,
touch the heart of my son
hold him, love him, be with him near;
all of this life while I love him still Lord,
carry this prayer, breath closer still, let drop my tear.

© 2016 Linda Willows
Photograph by Mark Gee

“Prevail”…..a poem by Linda Willows


The toiled fragile weave that blankets this cry,
echoes far deep from within darkened heart’s sigh.

Undo this pressed coil that sears, Lord, it burns;
insignia formed as life left to adjourn.

Lift not the cover lest all spill in vain,
without Mercy, or Grace to hold the lost one’s refrain.

Mark every cry with the stain of His blood;
Given, Forgiven, washed through in Love’s flood.

Heart you must turn from such pain to Prevail..
when covered by sighs of the night’s broken derail.

Honor the Voice that intercedes death;
that steadies all Love and exhales our Lord’s Breath.

© 2016 Linda Willows
Photograph by Fren Hendrick