Volume > Issue > Pain of Late Conversion

Pain of Late Conversion

A POEM

By Dianne Clode | October 1984

Have mercy, Lord, and by your blood

wash from my brain

the sly recurring pain

that asks:

How is it that I lived so long outside your reign?

 

The thief intrudes when joy is at its height

and changes joy into a tight and choking pain

whose voice has one refrain:

Why did I sleep so long?

Why was I deaf to your new song?

 

Give me the grace to consecrate

the tender, raw regret that I came late —

To consecrate that deathly wait

into a crown to offer you as I kneel down

before you, Lord;

Then so ignored!

Now so adored!

 

Help me to understand

that I could love the cross at last

only by passing through my past;

Give me your gentleness about my history,

Help me to see as lovely mystery

the use you made of each poor day

before in blessed brokenness

I saw and heard and chose the Way.

 

Help me to thank you, Lord,

for resurrecting me before the Judgment day

so I can say that You Are Lord by faith

for these few years

before I shout it out from sight

through rapture tears.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! GET A FREE 7 DAY TRIAL

SUBSCRIBE TODAY

You May Also Enjoy

Boardwalk Fortune Teller

Borne up by priestly hands beyond the dark

The clean oblation of the harvest moon

Who Taught You?

Butterfly, who taught you

Your exotic dance?

Who made your wings melodious?
What makes…

A Poet under the Mercy

Many of Vanauken’s poems are reminiscent of Browning, Donne, the early Charles Williams, and others, in style, tone, and theme.