Sinking to the Depths and Rising Again
A poem that reflects on the path from hopelessness to hope renewed
Shadows fall on vacant space ’twixt today and yesterday
and frame the face white washed with fear in such a mournful way.
The air that once was clean and clear now turns stale and vapid
as fear labored breath exhales, the pulse becomes quite rapid.
Reality slips in and out as denial is the choice
to quiet whispers of the spirit’s further weakened voice.
In vacancy between the days, sanity comes along;
by counting down while looking back to see where life went wrong;
Such pain, such depth of loneliness and fear is deep inside,
no call for help the lips convey because of foolish pride.
Ever spiraling downward, the will is crushed to dust
Voices speak with lying tongues, “There is no one you can trust.”
In the deepening pits of hell, life lingers by a thread,
as visions of a former life now wander through the head.
In fits of restless sleeping, in the dark comes a night’s dream,
as demons dance within the mind; the soul begins to scream.
Somewhere must lie the answer that will end this constant pain,
a means of rising from the dirt to once again live sane.
Oh, Spirit come and take my hand and lead me to the way
out of this mire, this darkened path, where I have gone astray.
If life there is for me to have, then bring again the sun.
Let me bask in light again until victory I have won.
Copyright © 2006 by Karen M. Crump
and frame the face white washed with fear in such a mournful way.
The air that once was clean and clear now turns stale and vapid
as fear labored breath exhales, the pulse becomes quite rapid.
Reality slips in and out as denial is the choice
to quiet whispers of the spirit’s further weakened voice.
In vacancy between the days, sanity comes along;
by counting down while looking back to see where life went wrong;
Such pain, such depth of loneliness and fear is deep inside,
no call for help the lips convey because of foolish pride.
Ever spiraling downward, the will is crushed to dust
Voices speak with lying tongues, “There is no one you can trust.”
In the deepening pits of hell, life lingers by a thread,
as visions of a former life now wander through the head.
In fits of restless sleeping, in the dark comes a night’s dream,
as demons dance within the mind; the soul begins to scream.
Somewhere must lie the answer that will end this constant pain,
a means of rising from the dirt to once again live sane.
Oh, Spirit come and take my hand and lead me to the way
out of this mire, this darkened path, where I have gone astray.
If life there is for me to have, then bring again the sun.
Let me bask in light again until victory I have won.
Copyright © 2006 by Karen M. Crump
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