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Poetry

Waiting

When

Submerging

A Bond of Trust

Healing

Opening Door

Struggling out of the wilderness
Searching for that path, lost in the undergrowth,
Sunk under the sands of time.

Reaching out for that doorway,
Hidden in a wall of pain,
Locked against that simple shrug.

Pushing onwards, feet forcing forward,
Resilient in keeping moving, moving powerfully,
Yet evoking that sense of being powerless.

Hand outstretched, asking;
Grasped and held, tight, not alone.
In tandem, helping, seeking, seeing.

Together to unravel what is between,
Permission to falter, to change, to be different.
Your hand, your mind, your spirit, your door.

© David Forrest July 2005 Sherwood Rise

Every Day I Try So Hard

What is it that life can be so difficult; to live, to understand and be in?
What is it that living can be so rocky; to journey, to traverse, to travel?

Would you cross the desert without the hope of water the other side?
Would you traverse the mountains without the hope of reaching the other side?

I don't know that it is life, or living that is rocky or difficult,
maybe it is only part of what we each must journey through in living our life.

And hope? Our individual hope perhaps
is to seek what is beyond, further on, in our journey.

Our hope is in the lessening of the struggle, of the despair,
of the sapping of energy, of will, of comfort, rest and hope.

Perhaps when hope is low, is depressed in our spirit, is crushed out of our self,
then is the moment to be held and to be supported?

In this place accepting help, accepting that there is a hand to hold you,
To give strength, And meaning, and purpose, and faith in self and in life.

Yet to reach out is itself so difficult from this place;
To take, or let, that hand hold you is too much. What then?

Then trust, a belief, of a possibility
Made more possible in that hand held out,
Not removed, not going away

I need you to notice, to see me here,
Ready,
Waiting, willing, to step in, and step with you.
Ready,
To journey with you through the desolation despair and depression.

I would breath for you, I would live life for you;
And I must not do this for you

I would capture the moon for you; I would walk on oceans for you;
And these I am not able to do for you

Your worth is greater than the moon and deeper than the oceans.
I would hold on to you, I would not let go of you, I would be here for you

These I can, and do, do for you

David Forrest Lichfield October 2007