The Leash

It tugs the neck

Chafes the throat

And nearly stops the wind

And memories dark

Cloud the mind

With times that I have sinned.

An open path


Is where I seek to live

But oh the guilt

Condemns me

Yes much here to forgive.

I sought the Cross

Heard my name

On Holy Lips Divine.

But oh those thoughts

Rob my peace

Doubt the keeping Saviour mine.

“It’s His work done”

They’ve told me

Yes, the seeds of truth now sown.

And it hits me:

Hand that tugs

Is none other than my own.


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Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

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