KasamI recently wrote a poem for a dear friend who was returning to the U.K. for a few months to have a baby. As I was writing, though, I realized it was just as much for me…


The sky lays down its golden head
On weary mountain height,
And emerald fields in shameless spread
Roll intimate and wild.
His song pours over, in, and through
And pulls us to His side.
The Love that calls us all by name
Says, “Rest, come rest, my child.”

This broken day has broken us
And laid us open wide,
And here we’re held in Broken Hands
With nothing left to hide.
The Love that sees us as we are
Sings peace into the night
And gently lifts our eyes to His.
“Come rest, come rest, my child.”

“Come rest and lay the struggle down.
Don’t worry now or try.
Just be and let me be with you,
And rest, just rest, my child.”
The Love that sings a victory song
Now sings a lullaby,
And Father arms, they hold us strong.
“I AM Rest. Come rest, my child.”

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