Country of the Soul


As the fireworks and grills get revved up, I seek and celebrate a quieter space…

I celebrate my country…
my country ’tis of Thee.
A Place without chart,
or map, or globe,
which eye alone can’t see.

A Place too small to fathom,
and yet too great to miss.
A Place with access granted
through tender touch or kiss.

A Place, sweet manifesting
by hands folded in prayer,
and Heaven’s Heart requesting
these hands extend with care.

A Place with Gates wide open
to the Narrow Way of Love.
A Place of Peace and Hope
and soft Whispers from Above.

A Place Where, poor or broken,
are welcome; seen as whole,
and Love, the Language spoken
in the country of the Soul.

Cheryl Anne