Mary Scott Poet Rhyme

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

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