Grayed days and clouded sighs

Note to a friend

by Ken Sehested

A note from a dear friend—hospital-bound, IV-fed, on New Year’s Eve and in the isolation ward, no less—
accompanied by a gray landscape photo from her window, inspired an impromptu poem
which captures my emotions in the haggard season in which we live.

The colorless days spur us to stir memory’s store

of rainbowed visions from days past, when the

chords of Delight came freshly to our ears,

cheers chanted, hopes planted, grace granted

in astonished harmony announcing enmity’s

rupture and every heart’s destined, disarmed

gladness. Beneath the soil of grayed days and

clouded sighs lies the Promised Seed whose

reach through trampled ground and bloodied

debris awaits the thaw of clawed hands and

brittle feet. Blessed Assurance, however

embattled, shall not forever be constrained.

Oh, restore in us a foretaste of Glory Divine!

Ken Sehested

©ken sehested @