Poem: Victim of Grace


Victim of Grace

Not content to wait,
I seek.
I travel.
I pray.
I sit with what is and give the storm time
to settle.

I walk
through the city,
and out.
Through the noise
and beyond.
Through the war zone
to a place of refuges and wounded.

I stop.
“Be still” says the psalmist,
and still I become,
a rock with ears tuned
to the infinite,
to what is beyond my sight,
to a peace not of my making,
but waiting for me,
just on the other side of myself,
like a lover I do not deserve,
a God I have not earned,
a victim of Grace.

About this poem

Grace. It’s what makes life worth living. A dying thing in our world, I believe. Worth seeking. Worth offering. Worth the search.

The picture was taken at Cape Cod. My place of peace. (at least in the offseason.)



  1. From Bob, who spends some time turning phrases. “Redemption is the life which springs from the fertile ground of despair.” Susan

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