To the Holder of my life’s map

Posted on by areadingwriter

I know You since I’m three or two.
You know life’s hell that I’ve been through.
Up, down, and up again
Rollercoaster life feels like I’m in vain.

Surrender, that’s what I did,
as I sink in the sea of grief.
My dream is dead, I said to self,
as I smell my failure’s stench.

I let go, and let You lead,
as my hope slowly fall asleep.
At my lowest, You came finally.
I touched the sky, on bended knee.

—

10.09.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: ilovehdwallpapers
Inspired by: Touch the Sky by Hillsong
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 201: Day 05 Assignment.

Published by areadingwriter

I read because I write. | I write because I read.

39 thoughts on “To the Holder of my life’s map”

  6. “at my lowest you came finally / I touched the sky on blended knee.” There is much sufferring in this poem but the end is truly Magnificant — it means peace and no more pain. It means relief. Lovely post.

    Like

  11. Hi.. rosemawrites..
    you have a
    human touch
    that sadly i
    often find lost
    in poetry land..
    so.. i come to visit..
    past.. dVerse trail.. now..
    Yes… thE friEnd then.. close..
    at age three.. i find.. i could
    see so clearly too.. across the
    river.. in shot gun home way.. liGht..
    somehow.. not as clearly in lesSons
    of school in shoes
    oF seated way..
    as paper
    becomes
    touch and
    words become
    grass of leaves beneath
    my feet of bare before.. so free
    with breeze.. and air of
    water front deep..
    carries me
    so far
    eternally
    now in free before..
    and in the dArkest pit
    of numb i come to see so
    many years later.. at age 47..
    42 years of meaning lost from
    then.. tHeRe IS A faint whisper
    at beach that no longer warms
    soul.. and eventually i become
    waves and ocean whole
    again my friEnd..
    the FriEnd
    iS alWays
    tHeRe iN tHe
    beGinninG as
    thE ‘tween.. and
    at the end and
    beginning of always
    noW Now.. it’s juSt that culTure
    in all its complexity drOwns out
    The beauty of the voice within that needs
    no words but seashores open.. within.. mY FriEnd..:)

    Like

Leave a comment