Wrote this poem about healing from toxic/abusive situations; it’s about learning that violence/chaos/fear don’t equal love. Instead, it’s gentle and kind and balanced and you deserve to feel safe.
I’m not religious but it’s written as a prayer, it felt right that way.
O Lord has the love,
the notion of it –
Been twisted bramble thorns,
Curved vines of dependency
and grief.
Bleeding clutching rose stems
-a fight, this crooked human
nature.
On our knees we beg,
Scraping stone as
a sacrifice,
For something greater
a love Salvation, for we
have sinned and this shall be
our grace.
I crave the violence no longer,
the millstone Passion
to be carried like a sin.
For a love made of bullet wounds
and tears like shrapnel,
is a love that will bury
Not the body but the spirit,
The soul.
Do not take that bullet,
Not for me –
pray,
put that gun down between
shaking feet.
O Lord may it be too much
to pray for a quiet summer’s day.
For the mundane warmth of
calm and
wistful care.
Must it be so bad, to cut away
The beloved chains,
To simply be with –
in the gentle breeze and
still lake,
Love and care as safe
with one other secure,
Bulletless and bloodless,
As I wish all love could be.