Marguerite Treon (Chillicothe, Missouri)
Oh Father, who am I to complain?
I worry so much of the time here in my comfort zone.
All seems to be going wrong. I wish not to bother thee.
My friend Ann is moving on, as she should.
My heart is broken.
I thank thee for our years of friendship
And most of all for my beloved husband. When things go astray I tend to be selfish.
We care only for ourselves.
Who Father, am I to complain? Father hear my prayer for our world.
It scares me so.
I thank thee Father for all your love. Who Father am I to complain?
When I think of how you suffered
What you have done for all mankind
Who then am I to complain?
Comments about this poem (My Lord by Marguerite Treon )
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