Array ( [sid] => 177279 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Thorn in my Flesh. [time] => 2013-12-06 16:07:15 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Forgiveness?

A thorn in my flesh, that of a perfectionist embracing suffering rather than
Drink from this cup.

A cup not of weakness but of great strength!

Desperation clinging to stubborn in-ground grudgery, preferring to pile stones onto already
Burdened shoulders, than let go to feel my Soul sing again.

Elephant memories stamp their well trodden paths, building fences that trap me within myself

I bury myself in grievances and miss the smile of the moment.
I drown in rivers of hurt and miss the feel of the warmth of the sun.

And there are beacons in my wilderness who show me that there is a different way

A way that my feet have refused to walk!
Till they have crossed the path of those who have found freedom in the face of oppression.

How tranquil were the waters in which I saw my Father walk.

A bitter cup or a cup of milk and honey?

My choice.

Never to reach for the pinnacles of perfection but to embrace change, personally
Know peace and the meaning of freedom.
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 238 [topic] => 61 [informant] => northernlights [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Thorn in my Flesh.


Thorn in my Flesh.
Date: Friday, 6th December 2013 @ 04:07:15 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: northernlights
Forgiveness?

A thorn in my flesh, that of a perfectionist embracing suffering rather than
Drink from this cup.

A cup not of weakness but of great strength!

Desperation clinging to stubborn in-ground grudgery, preferring to pile stones onto already
Burdened shoulders, than let go to feel my Soul sing again.

Elephant memories stamp their well trodden paths, building fences that trap me within myself

I bury myself in grievances and miss the smile of the moment.
I drown in rivers of hurt and miss the feel of the warmth of the sun.

And there are beacons in my wilderness who show me that there is a different way

A way that my feet have refused to walk!
Till they have crossed the path of those who have found freedom in the face of oppression.

How tranquil were the waters in which I saw my Father walk.

A bitter cup or a cup of milk and honey?

My choice.

Never to reach for the pinnacles of perfection but to embrace change, personally
Know peace and the meaning of freedom.


This poem is Copyright © northernlights


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