A Poem from someone wounded in Mind and Heart

By Anonymous

Father, Father, hear my cry

I am in the darkness

I am in pain…

My heart cries for your comfort

And your unending mercy

I am wounded

My head is pierced

I am covered with blood

My friends betray me

The sickle of Death is at my throat

Father, please save me

Save me from this dark place I am in

Sorrow overtakes me

Anxiety pins me down

Hopelessness stares at me with its haunting eyes.

I am wounded

My heart is broken

My soul and spirit bleeds out

My iniquities have grieved me greatly

Great is my sin, a ghost that haunts me.

Father, why am I still alive?

What is my purpose?

Why do you torment me?

Where am I in your plan that you knew since the beginning?

What is my role? The one you’ve laid out before the foundations of the Earth?

What is my identity oh Lord?

The Majesty of the utmost High.

The one true God who is Holy

Whose Word is truth.

Whose nature is pure love.

I am lost, alone, hurt, afraid, and a great depression has fallen over me.

Yet in my darkest hour, you seized Death’s weapon.

You showed me friendship

You wiped the crimson memories and blessed me

The wound is closed

You have saved me oh God.

In my broken-heartedness you were with me this whole time

Your never-ending tenderness, love and mercy was poured out in my cup

Great was my sin, but greater was your forgiveness

Which restored my soul and spirit

The ghosts of my past are nothing compared to you oh heavenly Father.

You love me Heavenly Father

The one true God

All I need to do is look upon your Son

Who died for my many sins

Who you gave to the world, so that many maybe saved

Father, continue teaching me the ways!

Continue teaching me your holy word

To know what true love is

To know what is pleasing in your sight

Comfort me with your rod and staff.

Though I walk through the darkest of valleys

Though I am anxious about the future

I will fear no evil for you are with me always

From now, until the end of the age

As it is written in your word

Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd in the stalls—

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The Lord God is my strength;

He will make my feet like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk on my high hills.


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