This Life Poem by martha shaw

This Life



Consumed by nothing but anger.
The path of life I have choosen
only makes me wonder,
why God had it stolen.
Maybe it was for a reason,
it seems like it's changing like the season.
I wake up with hate,
distorted images of memories that will never fade.
Confused and fustrated,
thoughts of being jaded.
Every fall,
I can only stand tall.
There's always a lesson to be learned,
someone to be heard.
A story to be told,
so sit back and let life unfold.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
William Jackson 14 March 2006

I like your poem, and I like the phrase 'The path of Life.' I think that whatever happens, we must not blame God who is like the sun in that He just is and continually shines goodness. We just have to stretch out into the warmth. It is always available to us. We get hurt, blame the healer, withdraw into a dark place in the shade, and then complain when we are cold. Often times we cannot see a way out of our problems and think there are only two ways out, both being bad. Probably we can ask God for wisdom, not quick deliverence, and then receive knowledge of a third way, a lighted path to wholeness and connection to the source and origin of our existence and other people. Anyway, forgive me for babbling.

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