Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
They called it ruin, wreck, and waste – my life that was… But I was walking into grace.   The smoke they saw was burning lies,   While I looked upward, I cleared my eyes I walked through the smoke, the heat, and the ash – but not alone… Christ met me where the flames had grown.   He didn’t flinch, With outstretched hand He pulled me free,   And rewrote all my history.   So let them talk – I serve the King,   Not bound by guilt or suffering.   My life is His, made clean, made new,   Flames of mercy burning through.
0
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 7:45 PM UTC
My Life is Not a Dumpster Fire, it is His
They called it ruin, wreck, and waste – my life that was… But I was walking into grace.   The smoke they saw was burning lies,   While I looked upward, I cleared my eyes I walked through the smoke, the heat, and the ash – but not alone… Christ met me where the flames had grown.   He didn’t flinch, With outstretched hand He pulled me free,   And rewrote all my history.   So let them talk – I serve the King,   Not bound by guilt or suffering.   My life is His, made clean, made new,   Flames of mercy burning through.
woodsblake
Written by
43/M/Metropolis, IL
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 7:45 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem