Winter

You see every now and then
I can see the sun shining in.
But I’m holding fast to my sin,
never letting anyone in.
Never venturing out.
Deep in the clutches of doubt.
I want to reach out and find a new beginning.
But at this game I can’t ever see myself winning.
Holding on to old ways is a ll I know,
so it’s hard to think of ever letting go.
So I live here in my cave,
here in the home of the brave.
Hoping after all this time there is something left to save.
Through these miles and miles of pain,
I question... “Is there something here to gain?
Will I be strong enough to hold on?
Long enough to see the dawn?
Will it be there for me?
Will I be awake to even see?
Or will I be alone in the silent darkness?
Not knowing how to escape the empty loneliness?
Could it start with forgiveness?
Of not only others but myself too?
Could this be a way of starting a new?
Of seeing skies of blue?”
It takes time I’m told by those who know.
And that time will heal, but very slow.
I want some kind of assurance,
so I’ll go but with reluctance.
My flesh gets weak,
and it is comfort I seek.
Life’s road gets rough.
Do I have what it takes to be tough?
I don’t want to fail,
but at times I feel so frail.
My front is nothing more than a veil,
underneath fighting tooth and nail,
knowing that truth will prevail.
The facade will then fall.
There to view for all.
Who will hear my frightened call,
as the onlookers stare in awe?
I’ll curl up as to be small,
trying to hide from it all.
I’ll scream and shout,
hoping for a way out.
I’ve got to realize
there will be no more compromise.
‘All is well’ is what I pretend.
I’ve got to let go or it will be my end.
Hear my plea,
it is ugliness I fear you will see
when looking at me.
You’ll turn your back,
leaving me in the chilling black.
Painfully aware that there is something I lack.
Look at me, maybe there is a possibility.
And of all this I could be free?
A useful, living part of society?
I want to be among the living,
to be capable and willing of giving.
But I’m not sure where to start.
I am under the influence of a confused and broken heart,
that is tender and reluctant from being torn apart.
Help me tear down my facade.
With out it I will feel odd.
Maybe I, with the help of God,
I could learn to overcome.
Not having to exist emotionally numb,
feeling worthless and dumb.
A better life is hard for me to believe.
Try, I must do in order to achieve.
Maybe I could learn to be me.
Living, loving and being free,
the way God meant it to be.
I could learn to like me, then maybe love.
I will need help and grace from the Lord above.
He will need to mold this piece of raw stubborn clay,
into His work of art I hope to become some day.