Poem

 

Pieces of me keep falling through the cracks. As I try to move forward, I immediately travel five or more steps back. It begins to become so very clear that I am not in control of things I hold so very dear. More and more each day I begin to rely on your narrow way. Walking blindly along this long path, I trust you, God to protect me from satan’s wrath. For you hold the whole world in your hands and make crooked paths straight in this weary lost land. Give me the hope to travel and reach so far, to always to look toward you, the bright and morning star. 

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K.D. RUSSELL