I like to think of gentle things:
the sound of light rain on a shed roof,
the touch of a lover’s hand in a quiet moment,
the feel of warm sand on bare feet,
the look of a lazy street in early morning
with only a few porch lights glowing softly
through the fog.
I like to think of gentle things.

I like to think of great things, too:
the view of mountains in the spring
when every bloom comes singing
of fresh growth and new beginnings,
the sound of a waterfall
launched over the edge of a stone bed river
and surging through the boulders below.
I like to think of great things.

I like to think of promises:
words held deep and sure,
hope and redemption,
loyalty and friendship,
the end of death and dying,
tears wiped away,
eternity.
I like to think of promises.

Some things I like to forget:
aches and wounds,
the tombs of monsters,
the pains of listening to the voices
of ghosts and demons,
a host of mistakes made and bad choices.
Some things I like to forget.

It is good to be very careful
in this choosing
between thinking and forgetting,
to be thankful
for grace and mercy,
to walk humbly
before our God.

H. Arnett
1/22/16