We received the following e-mail last week, and with the sender's kind permission, want to pass it on to you. Barbara's poem is pure beauty, wrapped in loveliness. We hope you enjoy it as much as we have. Please let us know how you like it, and we'll forward your words to Barbara. Better still, send her an encouraging e-mail .
Authors live for such.
I told you how valuable I thought it was, etc. Anyway, while still in that foggy dream-like state, I wrote this poem. Without edit, I thought you would like to see the results. I am normally a writer that uses a lot of imagery anyway, but it was just neat to see what my right brain conjured. Nearer still, than the hammered sound, of heartbeat closed inside a cage of bone, are Great Hands that gather inward, all the souls of men who walk the narrow trail, and no one dares to pluck them, from His Mighty Palms.