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Damascus Road
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Damascus Road

 

How heavy grew the dreadful load

Appalling pain was borne

Traveling down Damascus road

Facing tomorrow’s dawn

 

I hated Him I hadn’t seen

Despised the great unknown

Heaven and hell so much between

Loathing my walk alone

 

This can’t be right there must be more

Though blind, my soul could see

What reason was I living for?

What’s life in store for me?

 

The world is plagued with futile wars

Poverty’s everywhere

Has no one come to plead our cause?

Does Heaven even care?

 

Am I a fool to think such things?

Feeling the things I feel

How come my aching heart now sings?

Believing Jesus real

 

Could it be You can You be here?

The One who’ll bear one’s shame?

The One who promised to appear

To those calling Your name

 

If You are real, if You are true

The Christ who died for me

Then grant me faith to knowing You

And set this sinner free

 

I’m calling out I’m calling loud

My God I’ve seen The Light

Before returning in Your cloud

Please dress this child in white….. 


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Submitted: Thursday, March 10, 2016

Last Updated: Friday, March 11, 2016

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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