The pen on paper in flowing words
Saved me from whom I turned:
Shackled bones, turned skeleton
Staggering through dark corridors.
The pen was my restoration redeemer;
Surgeon that mended my broken wings
My voyager on bare-back of sand dunes
That revived my heart that refused to die.
My pen that dotingly zigzagged my thoughts
Pitching out dozens of cuddled virgin papers
Into insightful knight in shining armor words
Immaculate conception that came as craft.
My pen the sugary convener of life-giving air,
Water of life to corpse in search of a meadow
Timely snatched me from the clutched of an ogre
Lovingly leading me back on the road, to life anew.
I really like this poem. It painted a vivid picture of a man who found solace in poetry. We all do. Poetry provides sanctuary for great minds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What you found in pen and writing, I found in Christ. The poem is refreshing and resonates.