Poetry

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In the stillness of the night
I remember the hurts.
Those I called friend,
my brother and sister.

Tears wet my pillow
when I think of the gossip,
misplaced trust, betrayal.
Though I've forgiven, Lord,
the pain writhes within.
It rises each night to
the surface and taunts me

again and again.
Night after bitter night
the past haunts me.
I am mocked by my own memory.

Forgiveness was easy.
Healing is difficult.
Forgetting impossible.
Lord, what's the secret?

Lead me to your place of rest.
Hide me under the shadow
of your wing, where there's healing
and I can forget.

(c) 2005 Bill Shurkey

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty" (Ps.91:1,KJV).

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