My Hunter of My Soul (A Poem)

Some days I cannot bear the weight,

Of my own crumpled soul.

Or bear the grind of broken bits,

That I'll never make whole.

Some days I cannot face the things

That war in my own chest.

Some days I do not try to fight

Those things that rob my rest.

Some days I feel I am a boat,

A paper ship at sea.

The savage waves and wind, my god,

And death my destiny.

For some days, I have wings to fly—

And other days I crawl.

And some days I don't even move,

Or dare to breathe at all.

Some days I long for what I hate—

These aging scars and pains.

I hunger for a poisoned world,

And don my hell-bound chains.

Some days I feel that I am lost,

And I'll never be found.

But other days I feel the teeth,

Of Heaven's Hunting Hound.

I feel Him, tracking me at night,

When I ignore His tread.

I feel Him dragging me away,

When I am nearly dead.

I feel His tender, healing touch,

His heartbeat in my veins.

I feel His teardrops, on my skin:

They wash away my stains.

I feel Him hunting, in the Dark,

When I am want to stray.

I feel Him, when my heart cries out.

He hunts me every day.

For He has plumb'd the deepest depths,

And strode the fields of hell—

And round me cast his gentle noose,

And drawn me from the well.

And though I know, how oft I fall,

Ashamed to meet his gaze—

He'll raise me up, as e'er He has,

And bear me through these days.

 So lay me down before the King,

And crown the Saving Lord.

For He has bound me, to the light;

And love's the Fast'ning cord!

For he alone can mend my heart,

And make the broken whole.

And he has sworn to bear my weight;

My Hunter of my soul.