NEEDED ENTRENCHMENT
        WITH SOLACE 

I live in my house of life,
  There are times when a caring person
Must entrench to find solace
  Inside the solidness of its walls.

My body is in a cocoon
  Viewing life thru a transparent shield
Remote and very watchful
  In a detached comforting way.

I do not need to come out
  I just can smile and be silent
I can look out the windows
  But not touch things out there.

Must think twice before speaking
  For it will draw me out
There are times when staying inside
  Is the only course to follow.

How long in this entrenchment
  In this house with a protective shield?
Well, until I can trust again,
Those whom my busy life touches.

Such a form of escape is ok
  For feelings hurt is a mental burn
Same as a physical burn, it hurts
   And requires a healing time.

In time if there is love
   The healing suave will soothe
For a cocoon that is confining
   And a tiny step out is made.

If  you are mad at God,
  Remember two important things,
God never stops loving you and
   God's will is beyond our understanding.

If  you are mad at God
  This website has some pages 
To help you just look below
  And click on the Trust section.

If  a friend  has caused this hurt,  
  After forgiving them as Christ
Has forgiven you many sins,
    You have a choice to see or not.

If a relative has hurt your badly
  After forgiving them try again
To accept his or her failings
   It is a time for tough love.

May God be with you and
  May you soon be free again,
    To be the wonderful person
       That you really are.

Poem by Frank E. Henrich November 9, 2008

Love - Poem by George Herbert

(In the poem "Love" is God)

Love bade me welcome;
Yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love,
Observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me,
Sweetly questioning,
If I lacked anything.
“A guest,” I answered,
“Worthy to be here”;
Love said, “You shall be he.”

“I, the unkind, ungrateful?
Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.”
Love took my hand,
And smiling did reply,
“Who made the eyes but I?”
“Truth Lord,
but I have marred them:
let my shame go
where it does deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love,
“who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve,” says I.
“You must sit down”, says Love,
“and taste my meat,”
So I sit and eat.