Gifting wings
My wretched soul so twisted by self doubt,
malingered on false words and fragrant lie.
Through turbulence and ever-endless drought,
in hushed distress, my inner child did cry.
Yet fervent help did temper my despair,
injecting hope to heal my restless soul.
Allowing one the time for self repair,
absolving fixed beliefs like burn-ed coal.
So ransomed was my life by guilt and shame,
yet guidance told my heart to go explore.
And grieve afresh, and reason over blame -
that with pursuit, one's worth shall be as law.
For then my crooked heart shall be secure,
and peace shall reign and fear shall be no more.
04.01.2024
Copyright © Charlotte Watkins | Year Posted 2024
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