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By Peter O
Other Poems by Peter O



When I add the hammer's swings, and

See the Brave Blood Bleed,

I know the old road's prime ceased --

Now barren, no longer a saving canopy.

For the hammer unlocks the New Way,

Yes, blind iron stained red, but

Green of birth, inspiriting,

The hope of my wasteland.


Grace not the hammer's Blood

Dry and die in my wasteland;


I will die to my old ways, for

They no longer gird with hope, and

I will walk the road of the New Way --

The Jesus Way, my Brother Pilgrim,

With His Heart -- meek and humble;

With His Prayer -- thankful and adoring;

With His Courage -- firm and bold;

With His Love -- deep and tender;


He is my road Fellow.

"As you therefore have received Christ Jesus, so walk in Him,

rooted and built up inHim ...." Col 2:6,7

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Submitted: Sunday, July 24, 2011

Last Updated: Thursday, August 4, 2011

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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