A Part of Me

This poem is quite personal.  My son of 27 years old died of AIDS.  I hope it helps someone who has had a loss.


What is this thing called Faith, I ask
Today so clear and plain to see
So real, a rock that I can grasp
Faith has become a part of me

Then words that paralyze with dread
A Mother’s heart “Your son is dead”
O Faith that I thought was so strong
Now that I need you, you are gone

The morning dawns, what do I feel?
Nothing yet habit makes me kneel
I praise you Lord and ask you please
Could you now help my unbelief?

I need a sign that will tell me
Is he with You eternally?
And then He showed a sign so clear
My sorrow turned to joy with tears

What is this thing called Faith, I ask
I know less now after what’s passed
But this I can say faithfully
Faith has become a part of me!

Lissette Trahan

4 thoughts on “A Part of Me

  1. Lisette…may I share one back to you? Let me give you a bit of background. I am Deafblind and love the Lord. Like you, I’ve been through a breaking…. God’s Word brought new understanding. … take the story where Jesus fed the 5,000…the little boy’s lunch could have met the needs of one or two…but, after the “breaking” it met the needs of thousands. Where was the bread while Jesus broke it? IN HIS HANDS

    Jesus was “taken” put on earth, He was “blessed” at the Jordan, and during His 3 year ministry He met the needs of people as He met them. But, it wasn’t until He was “broken” on Calvary that he was able to meet the needs of all people for all time!

    I wrote the following during an extremely, painful hospital stay after I saw and understood what I just shared. I trust it will be a blessing (as your poem was for me).


    He has taken blessed and broken And it seemed I could not stand All the crushing pain and torment Yet, I was in His hands

    Through the sleepless nights I wondered And often did demand To know why? Yet, I’m certain I was in His hands

    To my questions and my queries Was a gentle reprimand, “Hush, my child, only trust me… “You are still in my hands ”

    So it is that I am silent And the birds and grains of sand Do testify so greatly The work of His hands

    So it is I do not know yet What design He has planned All I know is, as I trust Him I am in my Savior’s hands

    Rhoda Nelson

    God bless you, dear.

  2. I think there is no equal decimation than the loss of a child of any age or any cause. We are not constructed to accept or tolerate it. Every loss for any reason encompasses all. The very cosmos feels your pain, and grieves.

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