I have an image of a prison cell today.
It’s small and of stone, from ages past
Sometimes I stand there or lay there, my soul downcast.
How did I come to be here,
When I know I used to walk free?
I recall now giving in to resentment,
Holding the hand of un-forgiveness too long.
Till it weighed me down with bitterness,
Blinding me with hatred so I couldn’t see the dawn.
And instead of continuing my journey,
I walked into this road-side prison cell.
The longer I stay, the more shackled I can be,
To the chains of these evils that would destroy me.
But I remember days of freedom, I remember times of peace,
And I see as in a dream that I am capable of being free.
For the prison door stands wide open,
Its chains can be made weak.
I need only to take the hand of God,
In hope and faith, for love’s pure sake.
Then I can rise and leave that prison,
Walking out its open door,
Running into freedom’s light and love’s vision,
My life and joy restored.