Christabel McCooey
Christabel McCooey Poems
The one who knit me in the womb,
Who counts the hairs upon my head,
Who rests his hands upon my shoulder, warm,
Who breathes in the nape of my neck.
...
The blaring lights, the gritty air,
The screeching breaks, the rage declared,
Yet in these busy London streets,
I hear the voice of history speak.
...
Languid misery, grey decay,
Sneering fools with endless pay,
These suit clad beings,
Ensnare the heart,
...
The Best Poem Of Christabel McCooey
Steel
The one who knit me in the womb,
Who counts the hairs upon my head,
Who rests his hands upon my shoulder, warm,
Who breathes in the nape of my neck.
It is into your heart I pour myself,
It is into the current of your purpose that I ride,
Never will I be drawn into fruitless toil,
For a bitter master,
Or marvel at riches hoarded by few.
My resolve is steel.
The magnetism of your gaze, Jesus.
It touches not flesh but soul.
Tracing the contours of greed and pride,
Fear and smallness.
It whispers, 'Hush, all is well'.
The Lord is near,
Feel his smile upon your eyes.
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4/19/2024 12:02:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
