An endless battle wars within my members,
Attacking me with weariness
Piercing me with bitterness,
My fleshly weapons avail naught
Against the enemy’s systematic and tireless assault
I review the situation,
Take stock of my plight,
My conscience knows whose weapons
I should employ in this fight,
Yet still, I flail… and fume… and rage…
‘Til I’m forced to retreat
Intimidated by the enemy’s rampage
Perplexed, and hurt, and ‘fit to kill’,
I stew… and boil… and burn… until
Your Word of Counsel – cool and clear
Washes o’er my mind to guide and steer,
Giving me strength so I can negotiate
The treacherous paths of war and hate
My eyes, afore now shrouded with revenge
Gains new perspective – My God will avenge!
The light of Truth infuses my heart
Exposing rebellion, challenging it to depart
I yield to the sovereignty of the Prince of Peace
From my torment and turmoil,
I now find release.
© Carol Hind
Published in Spiritual Journeys by Poetry Today (imprint of Penhaligon Page Ltd) 1997
I’m Weary Lord
I’m getting weary Lord,
Swimming against the tide,
Battling against the masses,
Scaling the rock of non-conformity.
So weary Lord,
Parrying the blows of the enemy,
Running this arduous course.
If only I could see the
On and on, round and round,
Can’t stop, won’t stop,
Shouldn’t look back.
Every now and again
A few I sail over,
Others I knock down.
Some are a stumbling block,
Causing me to lose my balance,
Fall flat on my face
Usually, nothing more than
My pride is hurt.
Other times I feel
I can’t get up,
Can’t go on,
Won’t go on.
Can’t keep battling and climbing,
Parrying and running,
Swimming and scaling,
Can’t. Won’t. Can’t.
Then I hear the voice of
Suddenly, I sense a surge
I tell myself,
I won’t look at the obstacles.
I’m gonna press on,
And keep pressing on for the prize.
© Carol Hind
Published in Christian Muses – Eden Press 1999 (1st of 2 runner-ups in competition)
Like abstract art
You confuse the eye
Of the beholder
I can stare at your canvas
In ignorance and
Try to make sense of
Your colours and hues,
Your sharp angles and smooth planes
I can pretend to understand
Your wanton juxtapositions
Of chaos and order,
I can persuade myself that
I perceive purpose and beauty
In the creator’s handiwork
My inner man would loudly protest,
Would rudely interject
You hold out hope and promise
Safety, softness and solidity
Yet – attempts to grasp this prize
You are beyond comprehension.
© Carol Hind (January 2015)
I’d describe myself as a God-seeker and recovering perfectionist. I’d also like to consider myself as a word-artist, although my husband often refers to me as a word-junkie! Now, as you’ve probably guessed, I love reading and I love words. I’m fascinated by and admire the way skilled writers use them and, I’ve long cherished a desire to join the ranks of prolific published writers, whose words are feted, followed and feasted upon by fans and word connoisseurs.
Prior to me becoming a blogger, I failed to apply myself to the joys of writing and publishing consistently, despite always declaring (to myself anyway) that writing is my passion!
Words are powerful! They have the potential to impart life or orchestrate death. And so my heart’s desire is for the ultimate creator and wordsmith to use my writing gift, infuse my words with his anointing, love, and power. I write to encourage and inspire both myself and others—to maximize our potential and live our best lives.
- PROFILE: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+CarolH007
- SOUL SURGERY: https://plus.google.com/collection/Qw96cB
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