It creeps across a threshold dim
To find those unsuspect,
With stealth and cunning unsurpassed
A thief of self-respect

With hands of smoke and fingers cold
It chokes the voice of purpose,
Forcing silent questions back
To thoughts it renders cursed

For whence is sun and whence is light
And whence a God of wonder,
Now rarely found and rarely seen
As doubt becomes the stronger

In blackness shroud and deep despair
Directionless and still,
A soul retreats and hides from harm
With heart devoid of will

A prayer may lift though gag of lip
And simplified in word,
That somewhere in this fucking void
Encouragement be heard

~ Leana Delle
Sunday, November 3, 2019
2019 Sunday Poetry Challenge – Number forty-three of fifty-two
Photo Credit: Sydney Sims