Spiritual Armor

 

 

 

My helm has been dented from the abuse,

My back plate nearly pieced by so called friends.

No negative action can this induce,

Pitiful attacks that my soul transcends.

 

My breast plate singed from hellacious fire,

And my plackart’s been rung time and again.

Still shining through the much and the mire,

 Standing steadfast refusing to give in.

 

My gauntlets have become weathered and worn,

My greaves misshapened and out of place,

Still protecting my soul from being torn,

My poetic essence this suit doth encase.

 

My spiritual armor battered and bruised,

Though I am not really dazed and confused.

  

 

08/19/2020

Reviews

[Cherrie]

we are in a battle so elegantly expressed above. I love to read you.

next stanza

but, like a child I sit at my Father’s feet
His grace renews me,
His mercy makes me glad,
The glory from His presence fills this place
And my Armor is made new once again.

[Ruth]

I find words are loyal to a bruised heart or armor, us Poets need such in trying and painful times...nice to read you today, stay well...