Blessed Poem by Randy McClave

Blessed are the dead
For they worry yet no more,
With no troubles for them to weep
For now they sit beneath the Lord.
For they are the blessed
Who cries not a tear,
and they are the happy
Who knows not any fear.

Blessed are the dead
For they hunger not any more,
Now all their souls are filled
Through the nourishment of the Lord.
No smiles for them to seek
And no home for them to search,
No more times for them to be weak
And no more times for them to hurt.

Yet now, WE are the living
Living day upon the day,
And then when tomorrow comes around,
We might be, blessed among the dead.


Randy L. McClave