You shouldn’t be here,
As you very well know,
Evidenced by each furtive glance
While asking for handouts
On this Golden Gate corner.
Most shrug their shoulders,
Walk the other way
And call you ‘Fog’,
But I know what you used to be.
Have you sold your silver lining too?
It’s obvious why you’ve sunk,
This lead blanket of sorrow
Making all things dim,
The pottage consumed.
I have no power to
Repurchase your birthright,
Only One can show the way
To rise up where you belong.
His price is all your distress.
Ah, this morning I see you’ve paid,
Fiery gold overflowing your pockets
With true riches,
Soaring higher than you ever did alone,
On His wings of hope.
1/1/2012 ~ Elizabeth Caldwell Grant
