A poem written in the midst of struggle and strife
Of despair where failure and fear mute hope.
There is a voice speaking; words descending as
A wraith upon the dark night of the soul,
Hidden, yet with authority speaking
As to declare itself believable.
I am given up to confusion
At questions coming out from the shadows
Whose answers, I fear, is that I am fighting alone.
There is a silence that is demanded
And in it I find that I am fading
Silent-so that even in my prayers it
Commands that I must not speak of these things-
Does grace ever grow tired? And does God
Give into weariness from the waiting?
I am silent. How could I justify
Speaking when each word and breath I have wasted?
The reward for failure is silence unbreaking.
Is there anyone who will answer to
The voices and to its questions reply?
When after failure it convinces me
That there is no forgiveness for this time.
Is there anyone willing to search for me in
The shadows where I’ve fallen out of sight?
And in finding me will speak into my
Silence so to revive me back to life
Who is willing to suffer for my sake
And endure with me through the night.