Dusty winding pathways outstretch my eyesight, <br />for I have been on this road before. <br />And I promissed myself; never more <br />to get caught in such a terrifying plight. <br /> <br />Your face still in my eyes, <br />encapsulated deep inside. <br />It is you who I see <br />as I lay myself to sleep <br /> <br />Struck by horror unseen to the naked eye, <br />having battled this demon before. <br />At this river of internal war, <br />where either I grow or else so do I die. <br /> <br />Your voice still in my ears, <br />incarcerating fears. <br />It is you who I hear, <br />as I try to stay clear. <br /> <br />I know a dark angel is awaiting me, <br />as with God I struggled before, <br />it is not just legend and lore; <br />this river I must cross so as to be free. <br /> <br />Your touch still on my skin, <br />keeping me almost sane. <br />Am I to you inane, <br />as I try to keep from sin? <br /> <br />Silhouette approaches from the river's bank, <br />I have been killed before, <br />except my inner core, <br />where I have remained human, free and frank. <br /> <br />But if I lose your call <br />I will desintegrate, <br />None will resuscitate <br />and all I'll do is fall. <br /> <br />Bleeding in the soil, stretched out to me a hand, <br />standing up once more, <br />the future has in store <br />journeys and turmoil on the road to Haran.<br /><br />Frank Witte<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/road-from-haran/
