Sometimes I feel like a prisoner,
Behind invisible bars,
My eyes don't see like they used to,
Where is the moon and the stars?
Who drew this dark curtain,
And left me deaf and blind?
Is it just old age creeping up,
Will I finally lose my mind?
Where are you, Jesus,
Master healer of this earth?
You are my precious Savior,
You died to give me new birth.
Why won't you heal me, Lord?
You healed the Leper and the lame,
Have I overstepped my boundaries,
Have you forgotten my name?
And then I heard a whisper,
Coming from deep within,
"You are being tested, my child,
Stay the course and win,
I know it isn't easy,
I, too, made a frightening trip,
And I arose again to save you,
From Satan's fiery whip.
For when this journey is over,
And we meet on that golden street,
You will no longer be a prisoner,
But free in God's holy retreat.
~ Eva May Young ~
It gives me a warm feeling in my heart to write poetry. I am a "Golden Ager" shut-in and writing keeps my mind busy with something I've done ever since I was a child, and it's my way of sharing our LORD with who ever comes to visit. Thanks for reading my poetry - I'd love to hear your comments. May God richly bless you. Send emails to: EvaYoung @ SkyWriting.Net
[ by: Eva May Young Copyright © 2006 ( EvaYoung @ SkyWriting.Net ) -- submitted by Eva Young ]
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