Year Long Day
God says, “let not the sun
set on thy anger,”
instead, give it to my son,
lying in the manger.
This control I had,
full of spite; full of hurt,
how much could I spend,
what is its worth?
I could not let go,
what I formed; what I’d drawn,
sacrificed, He hung there,
a rugged cross; rough sawn.
A burden to carry,
to eternity, all the way,
minutes seem like hours,
during this year long day.
© 2009 Randolph D. Brown, Jr.
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