Bitter Herbs

Refusing to write anymore!
You can’t make me!
Enough is enough
Till there is more
Then a new “enough”
Is born…
Once shaken to the core
Yea…is maybe?
Nay…is I don’t know?
At a crossroads frozen
Not knowing which way to go?
The messages past in word plays
From hand to hands
Taking flight…
Never to return
Gems, pearls, our glasses
Counting grains of sand
It pains
It stings
It lingers
Breaks peace to disobey
I will…not to pen
Not a single thing more
No matter what You say
Accept the fear and trembling
Consequences that may ensue
Except of course
for this last thing
of heired gripes
not like being bereft of willpower
You can’t make me
Even though you are my Maker
You can’t…I won’t
What good does it do?
I’m leaving it all behind…
To die
And not looking back
With tears in my eyes
Not anymore
I’m tired
And weak
I’m sick
And frail
And no one truly gives
A rat’s ass in this world
The one ‘in’ but not ‘of?’
You already know that
So just send Your smite
Anything is better than these so called
“Gifts?”
That make one tendered and vulnerable
Submitted to wounds and sorrow
This side of Glory
behind a veil
of struggles and strifes
Being eviscerated while in anguish
where bodies’ writhe unseen
grimaces belie stifled screams
Where Love, though real…
is regarded
as just another word
in another day
“Gifted”
taken for granted
Look at it all Lord,
And show us it’s not too late
Help us to remember, read over and live in believing…
Romans 8:28.
(The funny thing is…
once one knows this,
the blessings outshine
outlive
endure
through every nightmare)
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