My pen, my pen… it begs to cry,
Yet the empty lines seem to imply.
I do cry… I scream… and I scream,
By finding the words in only a dream…
A dream that cannot even find a way
To voice my cry or try to convey.
My heart… my soul… it searches long.
I cannot even write it in a song.
So many ghosts and waiting villians
Make it clear, “They’ll be no tellings.”
The flesh itself weakens fast.
Memories and strength don’t last.
And in the end who really cares?
God does… and every burden I bear.
If my mind is so drawn away from him,
Then he bids me, “Deal with them!”
And just as sure as he bids me to,
He lovingly whispers, “This is my testamony for you.”
So on and on I seek, as I pray…
Waiting for the words to come my way.
12-9-16 written by Gail