|
The Wounded Soldier

Powerful pain steals sleep
while he worries
Wide awake at the darkest hours he prays
"Forgive me God I Don't know what I've done
"Forgive me God all I want to be is your son."
Attacks from the enemy
increase day and night
They sense our brother's weakened state
Thoughts of suicide out-of-nowhere come
At first he considers it but knows it's wrong
The wounded soldier thinks
he's been forgotten
The lie that no-one-cares still lingers in his mind
Finally he passes out exhausted from the fight
Later on...it's beautiful Sunday morning light

There's hope: that afternoon a wonderful thing happens
There's faith: God sends answers with
brothers and angels
There's love: and they minister
to him.
--bro. tim pickl, Saturday
November 15, 2003 A.D.
Return to Tim Pickl's Poetry Page
|