On My Way Home Poem by Frank (Black) Blacharczyk

On My Way Home

I can feel Van Gogh's pain his misery
His need to be loved and yet create chaos
To chase love away to be left in pain and self-pity
I don't know why I am like the way I am
A painting on a canvass with strokes that constantly collide
If I said I lived a sinless life I'd be lying
Death circles around me like a predator
It is restless
But I have hope



My fiery imagination lives by faith
On the third morning an empty tomb
recently occupied now angels sitting greeting visitors
Jacob camped with angels like old friends
Elijah was touched by an angel not once but twice
Perhaps I shook hands with an angel my soul knew
The tomb was empty thank God
On my way home I wander away like a child
but the Shepherd finds me and carries me on His shoulders
like a lamb


Frank Black Blacharczyk