[It seems the years have taken their toll in terms of a passion for adventure and the emotional strength to follow dreams. Is it simply the effect of old age? [I am all but 75 years along.]
But is it possible there’s more to it than that! Now I seem to live with phobias of all sorts that exhibit anxiety and the rare paralysis of stepping out into something potentially exciting or even meaningful [including work]. Aside from the opportunity to share a biblical thought with a friendly listener, life holds nothing for me “out there” in the world of events and people. I am seeking to live out my remaining days with my wife in the comfort of our home where I seek emotional protection. I cherish her rare laughter as a sign that all is well.
At times, sadly, I wonder if I am truly loved or if I even deserve to be. Has too much hurt over half a century left these feelings as scars of a painful past? I cannot pretend these strange feelings do not exist; for, even my private tears speak to these thoughts. God knows!
Faith does not deny any of these feelings. Perhaps, though, faith trusts God to map a way past them.]
The heartbeats in the poet’s rhyme.
Are words that mark the path of time.
A life transcribed in graceful verse
While chained to the Adamic curse.
The sum of every sorrow felt
The severity the years have dealt.
The crime in every loveless troll,
When hurtful words exact their toll.
The pensive tone of all regret
Of melancholic thoughts and yet
What should have died a quiet death
Are memories now given breath.
The poet’s pen records my days.
Not every deed deserves some praise.
My doleful tale of life’s ordeal
If I deny would not be real.
The phobic thoughts I cannot shake;
Anxieties that keep awake
And feelings lost to time expose
Ennobled now in maudlin prose.
And then of love: such haunting doubt;
I dare not guess what that’s about
For love fights strongest in the fray
But rests content at close of day.
When love is challenged, love stands strong
Against the dangers of all wrong.
In later years and peace ensued
Love’s silence can be misconstrued.
I ponder still the hurtful years
Mourning them with silent tears
And still I question all I’ve done
What battles lost and battles won.
Some blessings, true, are here and there
Upon the wings of answered prayer.
What God must know is out of scope.
Our lives are built on faith and hope.
I cling to family; they remain.
I count none else as worthy gain.
To keep their love at very least.
Else hurtful times shall never cease.