The Truth haunts me in the dark,
Has kept a hold and left His mark.
Black and still,
Both heart and mind,
Grasping, searching, wanting.
Leave all behind and walk away,
No God, no Truth, the voices say.
Tears run cold,
Down cheeks of steel,
Wanting, needing, fading.
Light is near but felt not seen,
Suffering makes the senses keen.
An empty space,
A template blank,
Fading, waning, breathing
No escape, to whom shall I go?
Face, facade nothing to show,
Keep up the dance,
Step back in line,
Breathing, crying, running.
Inescapable snare with death like hold,
Escape is death and flesh grown cold,
Held until the fever goes,
The nails and wood are kissing,
Running, resting, living.
I wrote this poem about 13 years ago in a place of darkness and personal sin yet shortly before going to confession. As much as I have wrestled with God over the years, He has me trapped and I’m glad. He holds me tight as the fever of sin ravages my soul, never letting go of His love for me. This fever will never leave until it is time for me to enter eternity where I will run with joy, rest in peace, and live in eternal light, the Truth that here I do not fully comprehend blinded as I am at times by my fever.
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James M. Hahn, Author 