My Refuge

I don’t ask for your pity.

We all have challenges
In our lives
That very nearly
Defeat us…

And want nothing more,
Than
To conquer our soul.

Then, in our anguish,
We cry out
For safety,
Calm,
And peace.

Surety from our demons.

Delivery from our lost salvation.

No.

I don’t ask for your pity.

But

I beg you for this…

That when my heart bleeds,
And my world comes to
A crescendo of dissolution…

This is what
I beg for.

Simply,
It is

Your understanding,

Your solace,

Your grace.

Beautiful you,
Gift to me your acceptance.

Gift to me…

All of you…

Gift to me…

My refuge.

 

 

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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