My Tormentors

GRIP

My assailant grasps me with an iron clad grip

And I feel the heaviness of despondency on my shoulders.

It claws away at the last vestige of hope

As I cling tighter and tighter, struggling to maintain my hold.

My own personal archenemies of desolation and self-loathing

Pummel my heart from inside out until it’s calloused and hard-

My eyes growing dimmer each day.

Inwardly focused abhorrence has become my titanium prison

And desolation my cold, steel bonds.

Where is the Son to light up my world?

My eyes no longer see His Light nor my heart feel His Love

for darkness and cold draw nearer.

I’m losing my grip on hope, Father.

Pour out your grace and fight for me, Lord,

My enemies are too strong for me.

Please come and rescue me from my adversaries.

Break down my prison and loose my bonds, Father, I beg of You.

Help me Lord, Jesus!