The Bleakest Place

 

I wrote this poem about the bleakest moment of my life when I felt I would surely die from the extremity of head oain I was experiencing. God and prayer saved me.

The Bleakest Place is the Cross, yet it is also the point of Hope and Mercy; 

Hope for living

Hope of dying

Hope of Life in Christ.

Mercy in living

Mercy in dying

Mercy from Christ Himself.

Here, suffering is intense, immense, unimaginable, horrific, unbearable, tortuous.

Life feels beyond possible when you meet this place. Pain, so exquisite in intensity that it is unbelievable that you can be alive to bear it.

And so I hang in the Bleakest Place

In the darkness of unutterable agony

In indescribable torment

Waiting

For it to pass

Praying for it to end

Not knowing if this is death

Coming upon me.

I lie in absolute awareness

Of myself

Pure being

Life

In a body

So agonised

It feels like the end.

And yet

Somewhere

Miraculously

Mysteriously

The end does not come.

I repeat

I trust in you Lord

I trust in you.

I call out to God

Am I dying?

He says in a small still voice

It is not your time 

And so I cling on

To a purity

Of essence

Large and vast

In the centre

Of fear.

The pain is so loud

It drowns out

All other thought.

I am racked by the pain.

It burns me

Yet somehow

Through the centre

I am held

By God

By Love

By Hope

By Truth

By Mercy.

My time is not yet come.

I still have a purpose

And life

Remains

And Peace

Conquers

And I arise

Like the Phoenix

Transcendent

And glorious

In splendour

Of knowing

The Light of God

Within me.

The voice of God

Has spoken.

I have more 

To give

In service.

This gift is precious

And unquantifiable

I still live

Here.

I am washed clean

By a baptism of pain

Beyond description

Only peace remains.

I know the cross.

It is true.

I lie with Christ

Upon the cross

And I am consumed

By pain

And agony beyond 

Telling.

Yet somehow

Miraculously

I am touched

By God Himself

And find

Fear

Harm

Anger

Loss

All

Is

Burnt

Away

In 

The

Agony

Of 

The cross

Till

All that

Remains

Is good.

And life 

Is utterly

Totally

Present

Pure 

Awareness

Pure being

Pure presence.

Life 

Is 

Revealed

In it’s

Truest

Form 

And only

Who I am

Remains.