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The person I’m escaping from is following me
Everywhere.
Lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.
To haunt and scare me.
Whispering my secrets to strangers.
Sneering at my efforts, mockingly.
Voicing my fears to the world, loudly.
Taunting my mind me, endlessly.
Screaming my thoughts to the enemy, cruelly.
Crushing my hopes, despairingly.
Threading on my dreams, mercilessly.
Revisiting my past, threateningly.
Calling my name, dispassionately.
With promises that lull the Prodigal Daughter asleep
While she continues to feed the swine.
Instead of leading her to the Father’s House
Where a loving welcome awaits her.
A place of rest and peace and light
From whence there is no need to run
From the person who follows me everywhere
From the enemy called
“Myself”. -
Good poem, same for all of us.
The gambling industry isn’t the problem – they didn’t steal our money, we chose to give it to them.
The banks we might have borrowed money from aren’t the problem – we asked them for that money, sometimes knowing we couldn’t afford to pay it back.
What others do/don’t do isn’t the problem – we are all responsible for our own actions.
We can’t relocate away from our problem – it goes with us.
We are Compulsive Gamblers – that’s the problem but not the excuse. We are still responsible for our own actions and can take the ones which will move us into recovery.
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Vera your poetry is amazing, ever evolving. I picture a future student trying to explain how the poet was tortured.trying to explain the concepts having only the life experience of a child…time to get a publisher!!
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Hi Vera – I’m sorry I didn’t see this before. You paint a vivid word picture here, with real feeling in it.
Thank you for dedicating it to me!
I hope you can stay in that place of rest and peace and light.
Best wishes,
Monique
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