Confession Of A Sinner... Poem by Denis Martindale

Dark minds think dark thoughts
and compressed in time, compose unpleasant moods,
saturating the hopes and dreams with vinegar,
pulling ideas apart like chicken bones at a feast,
till all that remains is that constant nagging whine,
that oppressing voice that some call guilt,
but that many know as their sorrows and unfruitful whims,
merely trampled like wheat, no longer fit to eat…
Would that I were so bold, to stand tall once more,
shaking off the manacles of sin, hearing them fall,
then to walk freely as a toddler across Heaven's floor,
reaching up to the Father's arms, without fear, just love.
If only, cries my soul, yet blood-guilt burdens me,
for the blood, that I helped shed from others in battles,
is crying out still, even before God's Throne this day…
May God therefore be gracious and kind unto me,
else all is lost, including my very soul…


Denis Martindale March 2018…