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Srurrender
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By Peter O
Other Poems by Peter O


Surrender

Father,

Your Son's Teaching Tongue, like wings

Lifts me to my "Why?" Why am I here?

He calls me:

To open my will's fists and

Hand over  my will to Your Will.-- surrender.

Too ofen my will snares me in icy traps or

Bullies me like a cannibal demon or

Sounds over Your Voice --excuses, excuses, excuses.

While surrender, the earth-home of libery and joy,

That  raises me from walking the soul-streets

Lonely like an alien in exile.

Father,

Grace me

That I mingle my will wih the Gethsemane Jesus and

Pray:

"Not my will, but thine be done.
 


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Submitted: Thursday, February 23, 2012

Last Updated: Thursday, February 23, 2012

About the Poet
I am 79 years of age. For the past nine years I have been retired, after forty years, from the field of alcoholism and drug abuse in New York City. I am married and we have two grown sons and two grand-sons. My life changed through a grace-experience in 1967. Writing Christian prayers is a particular interest of mine. This came about by a growing awareness of the spiritual in recovery from addictions. I choose, intellectually and emotionally, to believe the Triune God of the Sared Scriptures as my Healer.


Other Poems by Peter O


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