Echoes

 

The problem is not that I hate my life.

My life on Earth is not so bad.

I have a home and a reliable car.

I have food to eat and never go hungry.

I have a dependable job that is better than many.

I make enough money to pay all of my bills.

I am saved by Grace and Mercy of the living God and

          He claims me as His own.

I am the bride of Christ who loved me so much he

          took my death to save me.

I can see and hear; I can feel and touch; I can taste

          and smell the world around me.

I am able to move and walk and climb without assistance.

I can read and write and do math and science.

I can hug and be hugged and I can speak and sing.

I can be serious and I can be silly.

I can be passionate or turn cold.

I can ride a horse or a motorcycle, even if not as well

          as in my dreams.

I can think and hope.

I can rhyme as the mood strikes.

I can feel all the ups and downs of the roller-coaster world we live in.

But;

 

There is something inside me that rages and sobs for the things

          I don’t have.

Something much deeper than conscious thought, beyond the

          open places in my mind.

Something that does not want to wake in the morning.

It knows what I have, but despairs for what I have not.

Something that lives in the deepest place in my soul and it’s

          whimpers heard loudest in the night when the world is still,

          but not confined only to the darkest hours.

Something that feels broken and worthless;

Cast away rubbish that no one wants.

It cries out in the darkness with tears and pleading; sometimes

          just begging, but always a prayer.

Still trudging forward, it’s lost echoes unanswered, the last

          hope now faded through the long empty night.

 

12/07/23

RaF