May 12, 2008
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Memoir: Irena Sendler
Her wrinkles are rivers of emotions.
Appearances deceive.
Haggard to the pubic,
She wears her heart on her sleeve.
Her mouth curls in an upward fashion,
This is beauty bears her inward passion.
Hair crowned in white splendor, her wisdom abounds.
She places hands on her heart as she recalls the sounds.
Sounds of screams and injustice clout her mind.
With a single tear weeps over the cruelty of mankind.
I was there she whispers in the pit of disaster,
I was hopeless and desperate—in need of a master.
The sights of sweet children being beaten and battered,
Was unsightly and obscene. Their little lives mattered.
To help was not an option at this time,
It was more like a duty—a mountain I was meant to climb.
In the streets of despair, my Jesus was there.
He was my protection, my fortress of defense.
He enabled my body to achieve situations intense.
All glory and honor to the King who rules on high.
He is the bread. All safety will he supply.
I trust in his leading, his prompting, and instruction.
He will never lead me to the gate of destruction.
Kimi Willingham
click to read article:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080512/ap_on_re_eu/obit_sendler
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