poem | 10 June 2023

it starts with a drink 

just one to end the night

it ends with a poem 

bitching by the morning light

…this time it’s more like noon

I never change, I know

I’ve got nothing left to say

I just need to let this go

and what is ‘this’, I wonder?

just a temporary vice?

or is ‘this’ the bitter fruit 

of the rot that plagues my life?

can ‘this’ be both, one and the same?

just temporary, a part of life’s game

as well as the fruit of a heart crippled lame

can ‘this’ come from me and yet pass just the same?

it can’t, if it’s true I never change

Lord, I give You ‘this’,

which keeps our hearts estranged 

Lord, I give You ‘this’,

and once again I’ll praise Your name