Ode to My Love

Overtaken by the impending night the sunshine’s warmth did not cure my plight.
I was taken captive tortured and enslaved by gripping trauma as my spirit raved.
My first love stole the light of my youth and poisoned me like a serpent’s tooth.
Left numb and undead like a wondering ghost;
I was lifeless when emptiness became my host.
But that was then and this is now, to the God of hosts I wholeheartedly bow.
Left within His beaker of unseen days, God made me a love so I could sing praise.
When God made my true love and formed his being, He must have foreseen my humble pleading.
I cried for a mate to complete my existence and provide me with strength for some hopeful resistance.
Though my trauma I ponder, process, and purge;
Death is no longer a beckoning urge.
I can see with my eyes there is hope for my healing, as my love safely holds me while I’m feeling.