3 result(s) for Leaving My Pain At Bethesda Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Through the Arches
I came to the pool with a weight in my chest,
A sorrow I carried in every breath I drew,
But the waters of Bethesda stirred, and I rested,
And laid my burden down where the light came through.
The stone arches rose like hands held in prayer,
Their shadows grew thin as the morning grew warm,
And every step I took felt lighter there,
As if the pain had dissolved in the storm.
I left it behind on the cool, worn ground,
A stone that I'd carried too long on my back,
And walked out with a heart both open and sound,
No longer bowed down by what I once lacked.
So now I step forward, my spirit made light,
Through the arches that frame the wide, open day,
And the ache that once held me has taken its flight,
While I walk toward morning and leave it away.
Waters of Bethesda
For years I carried it, a stone
sewn tight beneath my ribs,
the kind of ache that learns to hide
and answers every question, I'm fine.
I walked the porticoes of my days,
like those who lay beside the pool,
waiting for a stirring I could not name,
while others always stepped in first.
But grief is patient, and so is grace.
I laid it down beside the water,
not with a shout, but a quiet breath,
the way you set a heavy pack aside.
The surface trembled, something moved,
not a crowd, not a cure I'd earned,
just light across the rippling stone
and a softness I had nearly forgotten.
I did not rise a different person,
not all at once, not without scars.
But I walked away without the weight,
and the silence finally let me sleep.
What the Waters Keep
They came to Bethesda with wounds unseen,
limping through porticoes, lost and worn,
each one waiting for waters to stir and gleam,
each one certain that healing would be born.
The pool holds no ledger of who was first,
no record of the hands that reached too late,
it keeps only the ache that the wounded nursed,
and the hope that outlasted each fated wait.
So I bring my pain and lay it down
where the stones still hold the weight of tears,
and I trust that Bethesda, cool and brown,
remembers every broken soul for years.
Let the water take what I can no longer bear,
let the stillness speak of mercy near,
for what the pool has seen, it will not forget,
and what I surrender, I need not regret.
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