The voices in my head
Follow me to bed
I can never find peace
I can’t find a healthy release
Persistent memories of days gone by
I look down at my feet and sigh
Then, out of frustration, I cry
Always under His watchful eye.
9 responses to “Under His Eye”
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I said to someone the other day – the things we carry – we have to carry them for life – there is no selective erasing of memories – we have to reach in there and tumble them like pebbles until they smooth off the rough edges. Or find something so powerful to focus on that they are all burnt away in its presence – for me that is life, poetry, beauty
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In its stillness, the piece speaks volumes – well done. Personally, though, I would like to have read ‘in’ instead of ‘under.’ Blessings, Peter-James.
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You Lil Dickens 
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