In The Attic

An old discarded bible,
So fragile with age ~
I’m sure, once, was loved,
Every sanctified page.

Dust is now its cover.
It’s shameful to say,
No more being read
Day after day…

Most likely forgotten, cracked,
Tattered, and torn;
Placed in the attic
Before I was born.

A shaft of afternoon sun
Through window, clouded and gray,
Had shed its light
On this bible, that day.

How, like the father, to shed
His sweet light on his word
In the attic.
like to the blind,
He had given new sight…

A love letter from god,
For all who would read,
Answers to prayer and
Sufficient for all need.

Registered on pages,
Faded ink of light blue
Marriages, deaths, births,
And family histories, too…

As I lovingly clutched it,
Held close to my breast;
My new found treasure
That tells of heaven’s best.

Of all the things in the attic
I could have taken that day,
Nothing else could compare
Or be worth taking away.

There, among doilies of lace,
Souvenirs, trinkets, and such
Lay someone’s life memories;
Out of sight and so out of touch.

Lovingly, I held it,
Touching most tenderly,
A gift in the attic,
Just waiting for me…

To be cherished and read
Again, through and through;
My love letter from god,
Written for me and for you.

Wiping the dust
From the attic, set free;
Just as his blood
Was the cleansing of me.

Descending the stairs,
Closing attic door;
With bible in hand,
To be forgotten no more.

Thy words, in my heart,
Will abide, always.
I’ll cherish the treasure
For the rest of my days.

Copyright^© 2003 Sandra Griffin