Depression But Not Alone Poem by Don Dickenson

Oh, the dark, dark, darkness,
Oh, the coldness of this tomb,
Where is that light which voices say,
avails to scatter gloom?
Those pious voices, poker faces,
taunt me in my pain.
Tho' none can touch the broken part
to make it whole again.
'Tis hidden, hidden in the depth,
no blood, no swelling shows,
But, Oh! what pain, deep wounding sore,
no limb can ever know.
So, all alone,
wrapped in a cloak of lost esteem,
I wait, impatient, no avail,
for that revealing beam.

“Where are you God! .....
You've failed!
You're not a God at all”.

I weep, and weep, until the fountain's dry,
I cease, but now I hear like echoed sound,
A weeping still is there.... close by.
In a moment, like a lighting flash,
I know I'm not alone, in my darkness, and my pain.
'In all points tempted', becomes quite plain.

I weep, I weep again - and worship,
hands outstretched, to one who knows my inner heart,
from whom no thing may hide.

I claim the sweet relief... of resting by his side.