The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Grey

As if grey clouded
my heart mourns,
as if its Lover's lost
it feels the thorns,
of abandonment.

Weary my search
to find His home,
In tears of weakness
I am alone,
without rest.

Oh God, I surrender
only speak your Word
for I langour in my pain
desiring to know You.

Words alone, say nothing
A thousand icons confuse my gaze,
But one, alone, is the one I seek,
He, alone, is the Holy Lord,
As an apple tree among thorns.

How is it, I do not recognize
Your touch upon me?

I have thirsted for other lovers,
but, Oh Faithful One, do not turn
from me, do not seek love elsewhere.
I will trust your hand, as the
ill man trusts the surgeon.

You touch me in my deepest blindness
You stir my dark caverns, releasing 
strange shadows within me.
Am I to see by this dark menagerie
that your Hand passes over?

Then, I will await with expectancy
the dawning of new hope.  For the
work of the Lord is ever fruitful
and the mark of his Hand is new life.
I have nothing to fear

Nor does my heart desire,
For it waits for the return of
the Groom in glory.
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©1992 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.