Cornered;
Trapped like prey, surrounded by predators
No way out, nowhere to run.
Such are the words of the lonely poet.
Stuttering with rage
And terror, and panic,
Speech comes haltingly
As the fight continues.
Yet as the end draws nigh,
When all appears lost,
His eyes he raises skyward
In desperation and hope;
And sees the shafts of light
Pouring from behind the clouds
Over distant landscapes,
Enlightening weary souls.
Inspiration from on high
Opens wide the troubled heart
That it may find salvation
In sharing words of comfort.
© 2014 Harcourt 51
Harcourt 51 
and luckily, the light returns, just in time. lovely, michael.
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Thank you, Beth. I guess it’s correct: Write about your experience 🙂
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An intense journey, Michael J.
I enjoy reading your poetry and the emotions you share are felt, my friend.
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Thank you, Audrey. Sometimes it’s nice to just let the words write themselves 🙂
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I agree. I do it often, Michael.
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