Wind~Blown

The storms are raging
the winds are high,
Like a cyclone bearing down,
The winds pick me up, and toss me about,
to go crashing back to the ground

I sit up at night alone in my pain,
as the winds gets stronger and stronger,
I hold on tight, with knuckles all white
praying it won't last much longer.


There is life to live, and things left undone,
But this warden of pain keeps me prisoner.
For in this gale, I could not even stand,
with weakness my limbs violently, quiver,

Inside this dervish while spinning around,
I cry out, with bated breath hoping,
Within my soul, my heart my mind,
grabbing, reaching, groping.

In this night with Dim of eye,
Weak as a reed I wander,
Then focusing out, an anchor I see,
there in the distant yonder

Rising up, I boldly stand,
ignoring the screams of my torture,
For this anchor is strong, and this anchor is true,
Tis the anchor of my present. my future,

I bundle up, the pain, the doubt,
the nights spent alone with grieving,
Windblown and sore, I toss them out,
Hoping, wishing, believing.

He reaches for me and raises me up,
taking the torment, the pain,
He anchors me as the gale force dies,
Then His comfort begins to Reign!

~Marilyn McQuaig~
© used with permission
If you would enjoy using this poem on your
NON-POSTCARD, PERSONAL site just click
on Ms. McQuaig's name to request permission.
The Encouragement Well