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Aids to Aids
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Aids to Aids


“Praying, hoping soaked with fear

He knew it as he cried

Death’s dark shadows drew him near

He’d nowhere left to hide


What could he say what could he do?

What choice could still remain?

No help in sight no hope in view

Had life been lived in vane?


He failed to know or understand

He never meant her harm

He saw the needle in her hand

And then within his arm


He’d health and wealth until that day

How foolish he had been

He’d tried to show her Jesus’ Way

Why did he intervene?


He only stopped to give her aid

Her life was living hell

His service though she duly paid

He now had aids as well


So seeking there The Father’s face

Would Jesus Christ forgive?

Did time remain to find His grace?

Would God allow him live”?


“Right then I saw the truth my friend”

“He told me with a sigh

He knew it wasn’t quite the end

Although he still would die


He’d tried to help an addict live

He tried to stop her pain

Yet through his faith; God life will give

When Jesus comes again”.....

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Submitted: Thursday, January 15, 2015

Last Updated: Thursday, January 15, 2015

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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