Still I recall
wounds of the past
like an icy blast
hit me with out warning
remove my inner warming
and turn me to ice.
As I gaze into the past
I can see
echoes of history
still tormenting me.
Like bitter berries
betraying the past
tempting me to taste
and I cannot resist
each time I fall
the eternal optimist
Work in the future, Lord.
Produce good and healthy fruit
in me and those I meet
take me to that mercy-seat
so that I may be complete
and the fruit of the future
may be sweet.
