You won’t see me again
Not in this lifetime anyway
There is a choice
There is a voice
There is a path
I think of you often…I think of all of you
There is not a day that I don’t
So far from me now
I dragged my feet under the weight
Slowed my pace
Hoping you’d catch up
Always looking over my shoulder for a sign
(how my heart aches)
Finally surrendered to the possibility
That you might not show
This melancholy has become my “ages’” appropriate seasonal garment
So ungrateful it must seem
To know of the Light You’ve Shone me
And still allow for self-loathing
Peace makes me feel more guilty
Love as I’d understood it
Was always a thing filthy
I have no way to show anyone
No words that can tell
What it is I see
How can i?
When I cannot yet believe what is happening to me.
And yet I am compelled to shuffle along with this pen
like an albatross around my neck
To the very end
As if it were my only friend
Though in the Master’s plan it may seem of little use
(exercises in discipline and obedience basic training in preparation, how much will stick?)
Am I Just another desperate wannabe Christian
fishing for a new excuse?
I fall face down upon your Mercy yet again Oh Lord
In a cloud of dust,
With a THUD!
My name is mud.
And if You’ve taught me one thing
though i’ve struggled, it is this…
that even “mud”
Oneagleswings, Moncks Corner, S.C.