Forgotten Hurt

So long ago, why dig it up now,

Not relevant and decades gone.

Some memory lost along with old photos,

and experiences of some youth I see from a great distance.

 

Perhaps, however, that long ago that was me.

the me God made,

the me I tried to make,

the timeless me He was making on the potter’s wheel.

Spinning sometimes out of control,

and spraying bystanders with me,

If they came too close.

 

But now, that’s not me,

It was, but now it is not,

Not because I have forgotten,

But rather—remembered …

Remembered all the hurt I caused,

the tears,

worry,

distress,

my unwillingness to become the clay on another’s wheel,

And the hurt I caused for that.

I am sorry,

But do not regret

 

 

Because paths are not always straight,

But they all lead to Him,

However crooked and potholed,

Though tired I might be,

No matter how dark,

How wet,

Or cold,

Regardless of how down I am,

I can still put one foot out there,

In front of the other,

And keep Hope and Faith alive.

 

Thankful.

That I was led through this darkness

Of my youth,

To the Fountain of Love.

Where I now drink;

And am splashed,

by water

everlasting.