Clinging to the past with an iron grip,
holding close the memories of pain,
waiting for my life to slip,
for trouble to find me again.

Then justify the path I take,
with indignities of old,
I did it all for anothers sake,
simply did as I was told.

What blame can be placed upon me?
as I hold onto ancient wrongs,
what harm could there truly be?
as my bitter heart weeps it’s songs.

Shall I forget the pain I bore?
should I forgive their deeds?
what about my heart that tore?
the neglect of my needs?

You say there is another way?
someone who wants to set me free?
who does not want my pain to stay?
so he died upon a tree?

That letting go of actions past,
will help for me to thrive,
and grudges overdue to cast,
will help me feel alive?

A box had been created,
to store up all my woes,
a long time now I’ve waited,
sought revenge upon my foes.

Weary now my body feels,
my heart it seems to ache,
I think now it’s time it heals,
these wounds are ripe to take.


By: Beverly Beekmans (2011)