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Near Heaven's Shores

When the tide wraps us in     icy covers and our body in shivers, 


and the warmest fire gives        wind chills, 

we’ve come to know something of       suffering, 

and how her cuts ebb into us 

and seems to take on 

a new nature of      unrelenting ocean. 


We see how she does not seem to 

carry vessels of rescue,

or the Savior inside     Who can calm her, 


as we wade a murky 

swath of cold blue 

land and awaiting rocks. 


When pain doesn’t live on a 

nerve ending, but rests 

deep inside where       aches still pulse, 

no one knows our suffering. 


No one has sat down, bench-side,

to look at those

agony-filled cups we call eyes, to watch them spill over and 

acquaint with our suffering. 


No one has journeyed beneath to 

uncover a suffering 

that is not one      thing and is 

yet one complex series of pain. 


Perhaps none have seen that God is       with His child, 

understanding, loving, fashioning. 


When that region of our body has in 

it the    troubling route of tenderness, 


traveled by inflictor or disease, 

tragedy and providence, 

family or foe, 


what we have come to know 

may move into a different light. 


And we may treasure that we have come to     know Him Who suffered, 


that He knows our pain, 

and that the song of     suffering will 

drown near heaven’s shores.