Father I cannot count your numberless blessings;
I know not all the times you have rescued me
from my own foolish ways.
When I stood on the brink of the pit of destruction,
You caught my hand and pulled me from danger.
When I was injured and in pain, I cried for mercy,
And your loving fingers made my body hale.
Today again I cry out to you, my emotions bruised.
I cry out – but you do not listen.
Your ears are deaf to my pleas for mercy,
My sins keep my prayers from your presence.
Take away my sins and do not consider my faults.
Cleanse my soul with the blood of your Son.
Then, with nothing standing between, hear my plea
and answer my cry.
Deliver me from the enemy and his snares,
That I may dwell in peace with my Lord forever.
January 18, 1998
Bonnie J. (Askey) Weathers
O.k., so now y'all know my real name. I can't bring myself to use a pseudonym for my poetry. I started with this one because it's the earliest one that I have on my computer. I'm going to go in chronological order, for the most part, though I might on occasion throw in a brand new one.
Please comment on the poetry itself, in addition to the subject of the poem.