Resting Place
Then truth must become a resting place
For my soul
When my thoughts scatter
As ripples upon the sea
Created by pebbles
Tossed carelessly
When my heart bruises
As fragile as wings of a butterfly
Ripped and torn as by a child
Just passing by
When my feet are tattered
As painful as a soldier’s wounds
Yet he still struggles to stand
From dusk to noon
When my head is bowed as Atlas
Who was compelled to carry the weight
So even the heavens mourned
Because of his plight and his fate
Then the truth must become a resting place
For my soul
Copyright © Mary Scott | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment