Their Addiction-My Journey- The Road to Recovery

How do we love those who not only appear unlovable in their mess but also hate us in it, as well? I had dodged fists and verbal attacks, put up bail money (only once), picked up my grand-kids from a ravaged house with a passed out mom, and cleaned out more hidden empty bottles than I can count. Still, the pain I felt when the handcuffs went on killed me. The hopelessness was burning through my soul the way Satan enjoys.

Poetry- Storms Rage

Christian poetry

And sorrow cascades in a hushed certainty.

Fading in and out of reality.

And joy evades, and hope carries away..

what is sure to come again on a better day.