Glimpses of, What might have been,

Nightmares of what has been.

Days spent in restless anticipation

of fear, nausea, hope or despair.


Hating my own hair and teeth,

revolted by the marks on my flesh,

loved by someone who stands by me

Day on day, hour on hour.


No criticisms or judgements,

no one to take it away,

people trying to shield me

but no person ever can.

The truth is bare, gritty and awful,

the facts and trials tell no lies,

but beauty is there and Jesus

a solid rock, a pinprick of light.


I go down and down and down.

Into a pit of blackness and tears,

Weary now, how can I

climb? Much easier now to fall.


Where is the bottom? When will it come?

Has it passed? I pray for hope.

Is this up? Is it the mud?

where I play Ein Audi over again.


The music is muscle and tears cleanse,

Love weaves a path through 

and years pass and realisation slow

that from 24 hours a day to 

moments that 


and tear






hard won.

Published by


margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.