Poetry

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Oh, my heart is very bare,
  with a soul that's flayed.
Raw flesh exposed to the air.
Is this what You've made?

I taste the tears of my life.
They taste just as real.
Raw is the cut from Your knife.
Even so I can't feel.

Then waves of peace fill my soul,
  remembering Your love.
With the wave I am whole,
  quiet as a dove.

I recall all You've said,
  as if only just for me.
In a shell without dread,
  confined and yet so free.

I await for Your Plan,
  believing I am there.
No plan 'B' for this man.
You've no need to dare.

© 1-20-10 (Initiated 1-17-10, hence the title)

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