Jeanette McNamara

I know there’s peace outside my door,
I see it where I stand.
It’s in the quiet morning chill,
The waves that smooth the sand,
The evergreens in misty shrouds,
Ducks on a glass smooth strand.

Yet in my head, inside my heart,
There is no peace at all;
I listen for its gentle voice
And hear but sorrow’s call.
You roused such anguish in your wake,
A bitter, tortured squall,
And now my world is dark and cold,
My heart, shriveled and small.

I miss you and my broken heart
Will likely never heal.
I can’t believe you’re truly gone;
It still does not seem real.
I cannot dream, I cannot hope
I cannot even feel.

I pray that you are warm and safe
And wrapped in God’s sweet grace.
I weep that I can’t see again
Your precious angel’s face,
Or hear your laughter, your dear voice,
Or feel your warm embrace.
Your death has torn from me, Jeanette,
A friend I can’t replace.

Though peaceful mists slip through the trees,
Great sorrow my heart sears,
While winter ducks swim peacefully
My eyes are filled with tears,
And I suspect they will be still
Through many passing years.

I love you, I miss you and I pray that you have found peace and grace, sweet sister.