MY BAGS

Dragging my suitcase along
Body faint of the weight
Lifetime failures, chronic fears
Disorders, disappointments, diseases all zipped in
Comforted by the darkness within.

Back pack breaking my back bone
Beloved contents heavy as stone
Hate, not forgiving, malice…
and the perfect blindfold – lies
enjoying a break-a-bone ball.

Lovely bright red handbag that match
Sinful straps as I watch
Secret sins buckled by the belt
As the stilts rush to complement
My indecency.

This other hand, an umbrella
Protecting from harsh weather
By keeping away the Son Light,
In my pilgrimage
Towards destruction.

Lost. Compass broke down
Alone. Don’t fit in this crowd
Tired. Can’t do this now.

Downing the umbrella
Sorting through my baggage
The Son Light illuminates
Rendering me transparent, scared, nude
Feeling free, strengthened, renewed.

I leave my bags under the Son’s Light
To deal with the contents as He sees fit
I walk on as He guides these feet
Encouraging me to dash not for my bags
Release the familiar and embrace The Redeemer.

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