God Told Me
Nothing is more remarkable than my pen with which,
this poet comprehends her muse,
in flowing poetry:
a destiny that has drawn inviolable,
circles around me.
Nothing felt real, a sense of unreality came,
until, finally, a realization . . .
I had a moment of unquiet when my poetry,
was ravaged, like a tatterdemalion, ragged thing.
I lingered long with the poem, weeping,
a soft wind was breathing on my window,
and a bird were twittering just beyond,
and I felt crushed, my heart shattered.
Was it jealousy that made you do it,
are you so insecure and resentful.
A poet I am: not one whose name destiny,
will forget to eternize but one whose writing,
will be immortal, this is written by God himself,
in the Book of my Life, it is God who gave me,
this gift of writing . . .
and I promise that nothing in this earthly realm,
will destroy what God himself,
has set in motion,
oh the wall is high that protects me,
God put it there himself,
but sorrow is still mine, my weeping is real,
for no wall is that strong to shield my heart,
that strength must come from within,
this is what . . . God told me.
______________________________
August 30, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/God Told Me
Copyright Protected, ID 15-704-746-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Jealousy,
sponsor, Skat
Second Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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