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At Suicide's Verge.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


He lost his job, he lost his wife


Financial ruin stood for


Upon his dismal fruitless life


He meant to close the door


 


Why had he lived, why was he born?


Into this woeful state


When dead; who in the world would mourn?


What future would await?


 


With suicide plaguing his mind


What reason was to blame?


With tearful eyes, walking as blind


He thought of sin and shame


 


Surely no devil could ever be


No place of endless night


No loving God idle would see


This painful sorry sight


 


Was he at fault, what had he done?


That all he had was gone


Who on earth, what under the sun?


Could make his grief undone


 


Suddenly dawned the strangest thought


If God; was real indeed


If true, was Jesus Christ’s report


Could not He meet his need?


 


If God created everything


The blood of Christ can save


If man in faith life’s song could sing


I’d never see a grave


 


Such thoughts could never stem from me


Yet Heaven saw my plight


Through Jesus’ blood alive and free


I’m walking in the light…..


 

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Submitted: Friday, July 6, 2018

Last Updated: Saturday, July 7, 2018

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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