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Avenues to God,
overlooking my valley:
steep streets and steeples.
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As I slowly plod,
I draw nearer to my God:
an uphill battle.
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Do I dare to doubt,
’midst angels and miracles?
Hope, you are still there.
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As we pray in faith,
crisis of this dread disease
brings us to our knees.
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Lord of life and love,
sacrifice wins over death.
We will rise, renewed.
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God’s grace, we pray,
will inspire us on the way
to salvation’s day.
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Author Notes
Author's Note:
The suburb I live in is an older one, built on hillsides and studded with churches of different denominations. (The church in the accompanying photo is one of them.) Some churches, with no current congregations, have been sold and repurposed, but it clearly was a church-going neighbourhood last century. These days, New Zealand is a rather secular society, but very accepting of religious diversity.
In my poem I have alluded to drawing nearer to my God as an uphill battle. This is literal as well as figurative. I live close to the acknowledged steepest street in the world, as featured in the Guinness Book of World Records.
In times of death and loss, faith can waver for some; in others it will be strengthened. For many, this Easter will be a time when worship brings comfort. The power of prayer is immeasurable.
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