'TORN' TO SERVE
I climbed and climbed, and now comes the time
That I just can’t climb anymore.
So many promises to me were broken,
Roller coasters of hope, many closed doors.
And I fall down, unable to move forward,
Tension in my throat from holding the tears.
“Let them fall,” my poem whispers to me.
Oh, what an ocean! My horizon clears.
God, how do I lift that cross of mine?
How do I go on? What change must I do?
I have no idea what this poem will bring…
I am waiting… waiting… for You.
I’ve carried that cross for so many years.
I kept my honor, and I kept my good heart.
I worked hard to help others and make things better,
And now… I am falling apart.
I’m waiting for You… ocean of tears gone…
Nothingness. Only headache and pain.
Forgotten by people. Forgotten by God.
All this work, all of my efforts in vain…
I feel like a rug, worn out, thrown away,
Used up to the last little thread.
“That means, my dear, that you lived a good life.”
Oh, God, is it over?
“Not just yet.”
Oh, I’m sorry. Sorry I fell down.
I complained. I poured out, uncensored my soul.
“It’s OK to fall down. I, too, have fallen.
Only those who don’t climb, don’t fall.
Every little ‘rug’ matters. And those that are old,
Receiving back less than they deserve,
With their threads used up, torn from hard work,
That means, they were — ‘torn’ to serve!”
LILIANA KOHANN
©2024 Artpeace Publishing
I climbed and climbed, and now comes the time
That I just can’t climb anymore.
So many promises to me were broken,
Roller coasters of hope, many closed doors.
And I fall down, unable to move forward,
Tension in my throat from holding the tears.
“Let them fall,” my poem whispers to me.
Oh, what an ocean! My horizon clears.
God, how do I lift that cross of mine?
How do I go on? What change must I do?
I have no idea what this poem will bring…
I am waiting… waiting… for You.
I’ve carried that cross for so many years.
I kept my honor, and I kept my good heart.
I worked hard to help others and make things better,
And now… I am falling apart.
I’m waiting for You… ocean of tears gone…
Nothingness. Only headache and pain.
Forgotten by people. Forgotten by God.
All this work, all of my efforts in vain…
I feel like a rug, worn out, thrown away,
Used up to the last little thread.
“That means, my dear, that you lived a good life.”
Oh, God, is it over?
“Not just yet.”
Oh, I’m sorry. Sorry I fell down.
I complained. I poured out, uncensored my soul.
“It’s OK to fall down. I, too, have fallen.
Only those who don’t climb, don’t fall.
Every little ‘rug’ matters. And those that are old,
Receiving back less than they deserve,
With their threads used up, torn from hard work,
That means, they were — ‘torn’ to serve!”
LILIANA KOHANN
©2024 Artpeace Publishing