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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Black (10/15/09)

TITLE: I Grabbed His Rope
By Charla Diehl
10/21/09


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Black my heart will always be
Lest I release all misery
That takes up space where love should dwell,
Release me from this living hell.

Broken and burdened by my sins,
Good intentions die within;
I’m tethered to such dark despair--
“Help,” I cry--but no one’s there.

Angry lightning’s jagged lines
Slice blackening sky above the pines,
Noisy booming roars are hollow
Like my heart--who should I follow?

And then a pamphlet on the wind
Finds my feet--its title, Friend.
I read the page of introduction,
It speaks to me without seduction.

I huddle in my corner place
And read about a Savior’s grace,
It says to trust Him and believe
Through faith His blessings I’ll receive.

A car creeps by, it starts to rain,
Shadows hide me from that pain.
Tomorrow I’ll be empty handed
With ugly names I’ve been branded.

The words I read spoke of hope
Alone and tired, I grabbed the rope
Which God himself put in my reach,
Powerful words began to teach.

I chose to leave that living death
And chanced to take in godly breath,
I found a Friend that stormy night
Who filled my darkness with His light.

My blackened soul has now been cleansed,
He’s pardoned me for all my sins.
He took my pain and gave me joy,
His words--I daily now employ.


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This article has been read 646 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Beth LaBuff 10/22/09
This is beautiful in message and exquisite in rhyme. Love the title, too! Kudos!!
Loren T. Lowery10/23/09
Truer words could never be spoken to find release from such blackness:
"The words I read spoke of hope
Alone and tired, I grabbed the rope
Which God himself put in my reach,
Powerful words began to teach."
Nice job of putting this to verse.
Ruth Brown 10/23/09
One who was lost was found.Very good.
Mona Purvis10/25/09
I love this. It is a testimony written in verse that just tears at one's heart. Being lost is the "blackest" place to be, isn't it? God reached down.
I gave my heart to Jesus about 2am in a motel bathroom. This speaks to me.

Mona
Jan Ackerson 10/28/09
Wonderful contrast between the first and last stanzas, and the poem is beautifully written.