Wrestling With Ghosts

Waking up with heavy heart
Past memories levy their taxes
Failures take axe to my soul
Regrets demand their toll
As I roll in tearful remorse
Over the course I took then . . .
In the past
But what of the present?
Forlorn under crescent moon
That illumines haunting images
And daunting challenges now
To be what I can no longer be,
And who will see and save me?
My shirt is wet from tears,
But do I cry for those I hurt,
Or is this more self-pity?
No, no little ditty of self-pity,
It is for the wreckage left behind
To which I’ve been blind for . . .
Oh God, forgive me! Relieve me!
Believe me when I say, ‘I’m sorry’
. . .
Last impressions from the past,
First thoughts brought by morning,
Warning for today not to go that way,
And I have learned by being burned,
But, oh, this heavy heart torn apart!
This heavy heart torn apart!

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