What's In A Name

(This poem is based on the meaning's of my first, middle and last name)

Struggling always up the hill,

Soul shielded by sweet Truth

And Light the weapon in hand,

Constantly waging war against pain

And the call to self-pity.

Little warrior, be of courage,

For though at times all

Seems lost and utterly hopeless,

Remember that the battle has

Already been won by the

Great commander of our plight.

Shining light beating so gently,

Robed in linen, snow white

And lips speaking kind words,

Soft touch, crystalline clarity,

Clean skin, eyes cast downward

In humble grace in the

Holy, encompassing throne room.

A deer-like beauty, purity

Within a heart of silver,

Dross burned away long ago.

Most desperate, lowly broken one,

Huddled on the cobblestones

While the rains fall harshly

And hair stings across flesh.

Yet the king stopped in procession,

Stepped down into the muck

And held out a kind hand,

Brought the wretch to the palace

And redeemed what was lost,

For He is most gracious.