OPEN THE DOOR, LORD
Late this September afternoon, I gaze out my window watching the gloomy day past with only a soft breeze blowing through the trees. I ponder how I’ve reached this point in life—a point of old age, loneliness and depression.
I always imagined myself as being a free spirit. I was optimistic; life was happy and filled with joy. I would not have thought it would someday be completely devoid of pleasure.
But I now realize, once a mountain starts to crumble, little by little, year by year it slides into just a small mound of dust. You don’t always notice the decline until one day you’re looking down at the mountain instead of up. Life has a way of touching all of us in this manner, I believe. We’re never ready for the decline of life with family and friends long in the grave.
I fear too many mountains in my life were constantly erupting like volcanoes, turning me into nothing more than a small mound of dust no one noticed. Too many times, I was left running for my life with no place to hide, or feel safe?
I tried to remain strong trying always to fix trauma in my life—believing time would heal all wounds. But that didn’t happen for me…
Now I know I was only hiding behind closed doors I could not escape. Try as hard as I might, I could not find the open door.
Ashes are what remain of me.
Only the Lord can open that door now, and give me eternally rest.
Brenda Clark Pike
Post poetry that does not fit any of our categories here.
1 post • Page 1 of 1
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests