FILTERING THROUGH

Drip….drip….drip….drip…., slowly, surely, filtering through,

Pearls of liquid hope are swerving their way past the darkened hues.

Down in my cave of misery, where helplessness and despair dwell,

I’m trapped in black, hard, icy rock, which wraps me in a cold, cruel shell.

 

I shiver in the dank, slate air, my slowing breath’s like puffs of smoke,

I feel alone and frightened and so weighed-down by this heavy yoke,

Can barely lift my shoulders, back is aching like it just might break,

I try my best to stand, but it’s so difficult when both legs shake.

 

The goosebumps cover all of me and anxious sweat beads off my hair,

This prison cell feels much like hell, apart from the flames that burn there,

The jagged rock cuts at my feet, my temple is left bruised and grazed,

The oxygen is running out, which plunges mind in foggy haze.

 

Slim shadows dance upon the walls, which crawl from every spindly crack,

The trickles of dread fall from stalactites and run down my bare back,

I cry and scream, but no-one hears, so silent is my echo’s call,

I blunder round this blackened cave, but can’t escape and find I fall.

 

But…whilst I’m down upon the ground, I pray to God to rescue me,

To save me from this misery, release the pain and set me free,

I think He hasn’t heard me, doesn’t care, for at first, I hear nothing,

But as I wait in pleading silence, my ears pick up a gentle… “ting”.

 

Another, then another – my eyes dart around to find the source,

Until, at last, I see the drips of hope appear by Holy force,

These golden blobs of honeyed-dew glow bright against the jet- black rock,

I’m mesmerized and my heart leaps, as I reach out to touch a drop.

 

A spark goes through my body and I’m filled with love and Holy light,

Which reassures, reminds me, that God’s here within my current plight,

I concentrate on hope’s drips and block-out the looming, dark surrounds,

Forget my feet are bleeding and ignore the rocks and rugged ground.

 

A sliver of God’s hope and love is all I need to keep me going,

Enough to fan the flames of faith, when only embers are left glowing,

Thank-you Lord, you never fail to keep this soldier marching on,

And I’m reminded, when I’m weak, your faithful grace will keep me strong.

Suzanne Newman 2021
Short bio...."my name is Suzanne Newman and I live in The Midlands in England. I have always liked reading poetry, but only started writing it earnestly in 2018, when The Lord put it upon my heart. I find it cathartic and like to use poetry to share my struggles with the hope of encouraging others in a similar position. I suffer from clinical depression & anxiety & had cancer in 2015/16 & still battle with the effects of that treatment to this day."