I am elevated emptiness

puffed up with my will.

I cradle and nurse fear like a

mother with starved child

I breathe deeply, as I pinch your oxygen

I am the shiver that shadows your spine,

always creeping in the open doors of

crowded confidence.

 

You can’t escape me,

human gods. You elevate to

pedestals and put crowns on achievement.

I find the cracks in

your stoic status and crumble

saints and sinners with the

tap, tap,

of my chisel of

doubt.

 

Poetry is posted every Thursday at 7pm (Garment of Joy Next Week)

One of my favorite ways to write poems is to respond to other poets. Are you up for the challenge? How would you respond to someone battling the Spirit of Despair? How would you offer hope? What weapons would you use? Link back to this post and place your link in the comments.

4 comments

    1. Thank you Kay. Your right, the poem is bit like C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters. Pondering the strategy and attack of the enemy is not pleasant.

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