End Of My Rope

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

I’ve sought out a piece of peace in strange places. Back alleys, smoke, empty bottles and worn out faces. With age I have prayed for relief. Eased burden and freedom from trauma that hangs on my shoulders like weights attached to chains. I listen to them bang and clang aimlessly as my hope is dragged down. Leaving scrapes over cool cement. I yell for redemption. I cry out to the God of my forefathers. Raging, boiling blood courses through sore veins. Seeking an end to the sadness. A bright light to shine in the midst of my pain. Lord if you’re listening to a wretch like me… please bring your latter rain. Because I’m at the end of my rope.

Love always, Esha ❤

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