Running With Fire

I’ve found spiritual octaves in the tones of my voice.
Love and forgiveness,
Have a way of harmonizing with kindness
Better than the bumps and bruises
Healing in my throat.

I’ve sheathed blades flashed in my anger.
Put away the arrows of wrath.
My aim was always off.
I cut myself more often than not.

The hardest lump I swallowed was pride.
The greatest victory was prayer.
Healing granted like a miracle
When I stood up,
Took my bed and left.

The past remains present
As long as we live there.
And I,
I’m packing my bags and getting out of here.

I’m running through that hard dark,
Fire in hand,
Towards light.
Learning that there is life,
Like that talented man once said,
After survival.

 

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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