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By Peter O
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"Come to me all ones tired and loaded down
And I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

You are rest

From the mob of worry,
The soul's rabble,
Crowds the soul,
Strangles it's breath.

You are rest

From the waters of grief,
Tears seemingly endless,
Living in a trance of loss,
Plundered by the real.

You are rest

From the bleed of loneliness,
God amputated,
Chasing false limbs,


I go to Jesus, Your Son,
Rest in His will
From the steep climb of my will --
Untwined from all baggage.

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Submitted: Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Last Updated: Tuesday, September 23, 2014

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.

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