He crawls through muddy waters trying to embrace,
A life he never wanted to face.
The wealth he works so hard to make,
Wasn’t at all what he wanted to take.
He had a family that needed him so much,
He was their golden touch.
His work was filled with blood and toil,
Working from the soil.
Words fall short in times like these,
All he had were his knees.
Crying out to God for a favored plan,
The suffering he couldn’t understand.
Why was everyone else going fast?
Yet his strength couldn’t last.
His children cried out his name,
Daddy I’m so happy you came.
Our home is lost without you here,
When you stand close we never fear.
Our hungry bellies depend on you,
Because daddy’s like you are few.
Even when you’re tired and broken down,
We need you all around.
Soon he realized as God’s plan unfolds,
There’s a story untold.
While the struggle calls us to persevere,
We are made strong when faith is clear.
Believing that through this plan,
Above there are greater hands.
Now the challenge begins at last,
His change is growing fast.
He’s learned that yesterday is completely gone,
But his victory is through but one.
The root of weakness that once grew,
Made him the man his family knew.
While for others misery is bliss,
The victory is his.
© Shirley Ann Cooper
Excerpt from the book “Imperfect Paths”
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Foreword . . .
How many people can say they have not walked on rough terrain to get to where they are today? Most of us have been bruised and beaten to find out who we really are within; to find joy in this life we have been given. We are flawed beings with imperfect paths, and those turbulent journeys can either make us or break us.
It is easy to blame our past wrongs, the people who have tarnished our trust, and the bad bets the world throws at us. But we still hold the power to make a choice to become better than the humans who hurt us; to be the voice of change by learning from the experiences which have attempted to break us. Along the many roads traveled, the decisions we make will determine who we are to become.
Take a moment to walk in another’s shoes. The poets here have opened their Pandora’s Box, not to release the personal demons that taunt or once to keep them confined, but to share how to sever the weights one is shackled to.
Donna J. Sanders, Author
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