In a day and age where loyalty wains,

behind your back, the looks of disdain.

The unseen daggers that caused you pain.

God’s love remains; supremely he reigns.

It’s not a fad, certainly not a trend.

When I praise my Father, it should not offend.

The minds of those who can’t comprehend,

the divine healing that thoroughly mends.

Do not despair when others fail,

to hear your cries and hopeless wails.

You’ve become the object of their wicked tales.

But the love of God forever prevails.

When everyone else has left your side,

and you’re all alone on that wicked ride.

There’s no where to run, no where to hide.

God sees your wounds, the tears you’ve cried.

It is difficult to get up from so many falls.

Your pleas are ignored like unanswered calls.

The weight of your spirit, too heavy to haul.

The endless tears, a baby’s bawl.

With knees that are bruised from the miles you’ve crawled.

The joy you once knew, now punctured and sprawled.

But your love still lives, though your spirit has stalled.

God’s love is truly the best love of all.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall