He Lives

Location

 

 Like the breeze , air flows from my lungs wrapped up in what the world begs of me, takes from me, forces me to see their uncaring glares. These eyes fighting to look upward for help when all around I hear the judging whispers of doubters, the mocking laughter of doom. With my fingers clasped tight and tears staining my cheeks I push through the hurt, ease through the pain, stand strong for the freedom to praise.Impressions of life distorted with greed from selfless giving to selfish pride. The heart of the world swallowed up by sin. Gentle souls lost in the shuffle,no separation, good and evil slowly drifting into one. My life is not mine, but his to mold and shape, his to grow and form. For him I live and him too I die.The strength of the wind takes hold of my faith, brings me to my knees with gladness. I am not alone, His mercy shelters me with wings of gold and covers me with peace and love. Whom shall I fear. The moral man does good but what good is life without truth, without salvation, without the reality of a beautiful eternity. So I write for the mother who has fought all her life, protected life like the lioness, struggled from the dirt into magnificent succession.For the prayer warrior who's strength is matched only by He who gives us power to love, to live, without fear knowing that we are not of the world.For the child who's trust is shattered when relying on man to protect their heart, hardens the shell without possible mending. but allows his spirit to come in and reform the soul.For the girl who's given up, no where to turn, no hand to holdThe world closes in, and with a glimmer of light, just a speck of hope she reaches out and grabs hold to the rod of liberty, sanctity, sanity. Through Him we are changedI write for my freedom, through Him, in Him, with Him. I write because He lives.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741