I’ve cried yes to childhood dreams
to hopes, desires, promises implied
only to capture, cage, stifle them
by burying deep inside
I’ve shouted yes to magic spells
enchantments invoked, conjured, cast
captivating, bewitching me;
part of wizarding man’s craft
I’ve whispered yes to forbidden fruit
harvested, fermented from vintner’s vine
a potion to numb my fears;
courage from bottled wine
Yearning to find a way out
of messes my yesses have wrought
gathering tools, weapons, skills
as internal battle is fought
I’ve learned the only yes that counts
is to Spirit, Father, and Son
for all that’s truly necessary
is Their will, not mine, be done
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I found "Y" to be particularly difficult this go round. I struggled to come up with enough words beginning with Y to make write a prose of any sense. So instead, I'm offering something a little different from my usual alliterative "alphabet style". I based a poem around one word. I'm not sure if it's successful or not, but it is what it is. Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
