Searching Through Christ

Tangled in a web of years.
Exhausted from endless tears.
Confusion and puzzles overbearing.
Loss of trust from so much sharing.
Hanging on just to let go.
Swinging hard to take a blow.
Struggling within a self created dark.
Upon a journey to find myself, I embark.
My sins, my guilt, my shame, my fault.
My consequences will not halt.
God is the only one who has seen it all.
From beginning to end, walk to fall.
Grace, forgiveness, and only His blood
Can restore in me the gift of His love.
Uncertain, unaware, and completely unknown
I search for answers, but not alone.
No one can live my life but me,
But only through Christ am I free.

4-2-2000 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire

I’ve Got Your Number

Tired and exhausted,
I attempt to rest in Your hands.
My body so weak and tired
That only Your healing touch understands.
Nightfall, thunderstorms, pouring rain…
They fall together.
Yet I will take shelter with You
In all forms of weather.
Life speaks to even my dream
And I vision Your sight.
Trust in You and Your Son to come,
And He’ll be my Guiding Light.
Underneath the sky and moon,
I rest my soul to slumber.
If there is a need that arises,
I know I’ve got Your number.

3-20-2000 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Drowning In My Struggle

I’m exhausted. I’m trapped,
And I don’t want to be here.
Can you help me out? – No?
Oh darn! I was so hoping
You could and would.
I’m really worn out.
I need the break
That I’m not going to get.
Life will take me down
And I will be the victim,
And lost.
What is it going to take
To ask you to help me?
To rescue me from my drowning?
I know I’m able to swim on my own,
But life is cramping my strength.
I just need a little help.
Please be my lifesaver.

5-3-1993 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Drowning of a Writer

Bubbles… accelerating to the surface. Pleading for my forgiveness, for my survival, my rescue. “HELP!” I’m crying from within the depth of the ocean. I’m losing my life. My will to fight is being taken from me. The strength of the almighty sea is too much for me. My body grows weak. I’m feeling numb. Every inch of my muscles are aching! Yet… all I can think about is fighting for my life. If only I had a little hero, or maybe a little support. If only I weren’t in so deep, but I’m in way over my head. As I struggle with every breath I have left in my body, I sink further and further, into my burial grounds. My new dwelling place, where my bones shall rot into tiny pieces of exhausted life. Soon, I will have nothing left. No warmth of loving. No tears of enjoyment… no successes to celebrate, no songs for the singer, no words for the poet, no energy for living. Soon, I’ll be gone… to never return.
Alone I have battled these waters, and though I came as close as to seeing the shining of the sun, I was quickly grasped by the force of the underworld. Only miracles can save me now. A damsel in distress, I am. I’m falling faster. I search in desperation for something to hold onto, and as I try to recover with the little things, I find my strength is overwhelming. My burdens are too heavy. Nothing could bring me back now. I’m drowning.

6-19-1989 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. I use to subtitle this Ode to Suicide… actually the original title itself was Ode to Suicide, but I made it a subtitle so no one would worry or try to take it from me. Now, I don’t think it is wise to have such a title because suicide itself is not beautiful.