September 5, 2021
I wrote enough poems to last a whole year.
It helped me to capture what’s buried inside.
It’s better to bare it with poems sincere,
Than keeping the feelings and letting them hide.
Feelings like mushrooms can grow in the dark,
Some of them poisonous, strange, or bizarre.
Pulled up by the roots they may still leave a mark,
Time will bring healing, just leaving a scar.
Along with the strange I discovered some love,
A deep-rooted faith, a reflection of light,
A joy that’s within me that comes from above,
A knowledge that someday there’ll be no more night.
I pray as I share that my words remain true,
That my verses convey a reflection of You.