Loss

I'm on the brink, staring into the abyss.

My own strength is insufficient; my energy waning,

My knees buckling, my back breaking.

I can't do this on my own, I pitch towards my end.

My Maker sends me gifts from above:

I am saved by the loving hands of Providence.

She is comprised of the ones who love me.

They take burdens upon themselves as I look into certain death,

And I am given the power to turn my back and be saved.

 

What a gift it is to be loved, what a gift indeed.

The Son that had His back turned on died so I could live.

My Saviour is good indeed.

Comments

menendon

I wrote this a little while ago when my Grandma died. She was like a second mother to me. I had just finished Basic Training in the Air Force when she passed, and I felt like our time was cut short. Alone in my dorm room and overcome by emotion, this came out in a matter of minutes. I believe that this is the most vivid and emotional poem I have ever written. I submitted it hoping to get the #To Be Heard scholarship, so that I can continue the degree that I promised her I would get.

Need to talk?

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