Devastation,
burnt up,
pulverized heart,
when you told me that,
“It’d take Jesus to come down,
to save your marriage.”
To which I replied,
“He already came once!”
I’ll never forget that cold, hard bench,
on which I sat.
My soul spat inside,
and the anguish tried to abide.
I forgive you for the damage,
and the hope you lost,
because I know you said it out of exhaustion.
The irony,
as I believe most would agree,
is that you sat across from me,
as a Hosea figure yourself.
Now, I just pray and plead,
that, marriage counseling, you don’t continue to conduct or proceed.
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. Aspiring licensed mental health counselor. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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Comments (5)
Gosh, that was so heartbreaking 🥺 Loved your poem
A lot to unpack there and I’m sorry that you went through that. Here’s to better days to come-
Oh dear! Definitely burnt out… or never on fire to start with. Whatever happened to “With God, nothing’s impossible”?
Sounds familiar. Thanks for sharing
Well written! Sounds like counseling didn’t work out totally. Great poem!