My Furry Angel
With a vest of purpose, a loyal, steady soul,
A psychiatric service dog, making me whole.
You work with a grace, a focused, gentle might,
Then play with a joy that fills me with light.
You're a companion true, a confidant so deep,
A life saver who holds the promises I keep.
You chase the dark thoughts away, they can't remain,
Your presence, a shield against all the pain.
Through your unconditional love, a gift from above,
You guide me back gently into God's love.
My furry friend, my anchor, my guide, my own,
The greatest love I've ever known.
By: Rocky Mountain Country Life With A Service Dog
Storm-tossed Soul
The ocean's depths, a churning, endless gray,
A thousand fears in fins that tear and stray.
Sharp-horned and black, they circle in the deep,
The devil's choir, secrets that they keep.
I thrash and struggle, gasp for one last breath,
Forgotten, lost, a whispered word of death.
My silent plea, a bubble from my lips,
Is swallowed whole by storms and sinking ships.
But in the gloom, a sudden, blinding light,
A hand outstretched, piercing through the night.
Not ocean's salt, but grace, a gentle rain,
A quiet voice that calms the endless pain.
A cross of wood, an anchor for my soul,
He lifts me up and makes my spirit whole.
The devil's horns dissolve to mist and air,
Replaced by peace, a love beyond compare.
And though the waves may crash and roar and foam,
In Christ's embrace, I finally find a home.
By: Rocky Mountain Country Life With A Service Dog
The Quiet Companion
The world feels heavy, gray, and slow,
a silent tide of undertow.
The simplest tasks, a mountain tall,
a hollow echo fills the hall.
But then a nudge, a velvet ear,
a gentle presence, drawing near.
She doesn't speak, she doesn't pry,
just meets the sadness in my eye.
She lays her head upon my lap,
a living, breathing, weighted map
that charts a course from lonely dread
to something solid, here instead.
She leads me out into the sun,
a tiny battle bravely won.
The walk, the breath, the simple pace,
a slow return to time and space.
She pulls me from the mind's deep well,
a story only she can tell.
A silent promise, soft and deep:
I will be with you while you sleep.
And I will be with you when you wake,
for goodness' sake, for goodness' sake.
By: Rocky Mountain Country Life With A Service Dog
A Love Unwavering
The world is a grand and gilded hall,
But I stand outside, a silent ghost,
And watch as every door and wall,
Become the barriers I fear the most.
I knock on each with hopeful hands,
A quiet plea, a whispered word,
But every lock, it understands,
That I am not to be heard.
The sound of silence is a roar,
A symphony of being shunned,
Each friendly face, I once adored,
Is now a back, a victory won.
They turn away with practiced ease,
Their shoulders cold, their hearts of stone,
I feel the crushing, bitter breeze,
Of standing utterly alone.
The whisper of a name I once held dear,
Now turns to dust upon the tongue,
A cruel and stinging, mocking tear,
For songs that I have never sung.
The banquet's light, the joyous sound,
The laughter of the chosen few,
Is just a wound, a salted ground,
For me, a stranger, through and through.
The feeling of being blackballed,
Is a weight that breaks the strongest will,
A destiny that has been called,
A bitter pill I must now fill.
To be a phantom in the crowd,
To see the joy but not partake,
My spirit cowers, broken, bowed,
For every door that will not break.
I fall upon this barren earth,
And raise my eyes to skies unknown,
And question all my fragile worth,
This broken body, heart, and bone.
"Oh God," I cry, "where are You now?
Do you not see this lonely plight?
This weary soul, this furrowed brow,
Lost in a sea of endless night?"
And then a subtle whisper comes,
A warmth that settles in my heart,
Not from the world's indifferent sums,
But from a love that sets apart.
For when the doors are slammed and shut,
And every back is turned away,
There is a love that cannot cut,
A light that shines, a steady ray.
It does not judge, it does not flee,
It does not care what others think,
It holds a space for only me,
Upon the very darkest brink.
The world may scorn, the world may hate,
But God's love finds me in the gloom,
It waits outside the gilded gate,
And fills my lonely, empty room.
And so I rise, though bruised and sore,
No longer needing worldly grace,
For I have found what I adore,
In this unwavering, kind embrace.
The world can keep its fleeting praise,
Its empty rooms and slamming doors,
For God's love fills my endless days,
And that is all I'm living for.
The Hymn Of The Broken Soul
I walk a path where shadows cling,
A silent world where no one knows,
The endless pain my spirit brings,
The hidden ache that slowly grows.
A painted smile upon my face,
A mask of joy for all to see,
To hide the ruin of this place,
The broken, hollowed-out me.
I stand alone within the storm,
No shield to keep the rain at bay,
And let the tears, both cold and warm,
Just wash my weary soul away.
The ghosts of all my past mistakes,
They gather round and scream my name,
With every breath my body takes,
They fan the fires of my shame.
They whisper "failure" in my ear,
They laugh at every step I try,
They feed upon my deepest fear,
And promise that I'll live and die,
A prisoner of this painful plight,
A broken vessel, bound to fall,
Lost in the never-ending night,
And deaf to any hopeful call.
And yet, in spite of all they say,
A different sound begins to bloom,
A song of glory starts to play,
To push the darkness from this room.
I sing a hymn, a whispered plea,
A prayer of praise from shattered lips,
For a God whose love still reaches me,
In spite of all these painful trips.
My world is shrouded in the dark,
A cold and lonely, silent space,
Yet still, I find a tiny spark,
And worship in this empty place.
I carry burdens all my own,
A weight that no one understands,
A shame that I have always known,
Held tightly in my silent hands.
I bear the scars of what has been,
The heavy cloak of all my past,
And lock the suffering deep within,
A lonely secret built to last.
And still, with every painful breath,
I offer up my voice in praise,
In spite of life, in spite of death,
I walk through all these lonely days,
And worship.
And then, a sudden, blinding light,
A sound of thunder in the sky,
The stars ignite, both strong and bright,
As I look up with hopeful eye.
The clouds of shame, they break apart,
The pain of silence starts to fade,
The ghosts disperse, a new life starts,
And I am finally not afraid.
The sky above is torn in two,
A glimpse of heaven, pure and clean,
A promise that I'll start anew,
And find the person I have been.
And I am not alone anymore.
The Silent Pawsteps
The Silent Pawsteps
The world outside, a cacophony,
A hundred voices, none my own,
A jarring, cruel, and mocking spree,
That leaves me broken and alone.
But in this chaos, she is still,
A beacon in a troubled sea,
Her pawsteps gentle, on the hill,
Of what my soul used to be.
She doesn't judge the silent tears,
That fall and stain her soft, warm fur,
She simply waits, and calms my fears,
A quiet, loving, patient blur.
She senses when the panic starts,
A tremor in my fragile hand,
And with her paws, she mends the parts,
Of me that cannot understand.
She lays her head upon my knee,
A weight of comfort, pure and true,
And in that touch, I am set free,
To face the morning, fresh and new.
She doesn't need to speak a word,
To know the battles that I fight,
For in her presence, I have heard,
The silent anthem of the light.
She is my shield against the dread,
My anchor in the stormy gale,
The only voice inside my head,
That tells a hopeful, honest tale.
We walk together on this road,
Her gentle breathing, soft and low,
She helps me carry this great load,
And watches as my spirit grows.
The path is long, the healing slow,
But with her by my weary side,
I have a friend who helps me know,
There's nowhere left for me to hide.
The shadows that I used to fear,
Are just a backdrop for the sun,
The future now is bright and clear,
A new life has at last begun.
And when I look into her eyes,
I see a love that never fades,
A silent promise, no disguise,
That in her love, the darkness trades,
Its heavy cloak for a bright ray,
That fills my soul and makes me whole,
A peaceful ending to the fray,
A final, joyful, healing role.
A Faded Bloom's Lament
In fields of pain, where shadows creep and loom,
A fragile bud, I found my early tomb.
No sun's warm kiss, no gentle, morning dew,
Just bitter winds of hate that pierced me through.
My youthful petals, meant to softly unfurl,
Were shredded by the cruel and careless world.
My innocence, a dream I could not claim,
Was lost to sorrow, anguish, and to shame.
The scars I bear, a tapestry of grief,
Hold untold tales, beyond all mortal belief.
They bleed in silence, secrets dark and deep,
A harvest sown by bitter seeds I keep.
A mind besieged, in chaos and despair,
By PTSD, a burden hard to bear,
Where ghosts scream,
Even in my dream,
Reminders of horrors buried deep,
That endlessly creep,
Of wounds that won't heal,
Scabs that constantly peel.
Anxiety, a specter at my side,
Forever to abide,
A tight-coiled spring within the chest,
A whispered fear that knows no rest.
It steals the breath and numbs the hands,
A fortress built of shifting sands.
Each simple task, a mountain high,
Beneath a cold and watchful eye.
Depression, where my spirit hides.
Battered by the tides.
A leaden cloak, a hollow ache,
A world in shades I cannot shake.
The sun's warm light, a distant gleam,
Lost in a waking, silent dream.
My body heavy, slow, and cold,
A story stalled, a truth untold.
A form disfigured, marked by past disgrace,
A broken vessel, in a loveless place.
Yet in this gloom, a glimmer did arise,
A loyal heart with deep and knowing eyes.
A coat of midnight, touched with burnished tan,
My German Shepherd, more than mortal man.
My service dog, my anchor in the storm,
My steady guide, to keep me safe and warm.
With gentle nudges, and with silent grace,
She helps me navigate this treacherous place.
But in this prison, on the cold stone floor,
A gentle paw now waits outside the door.
A service dog, eyes of endless grace,
Who guards the ruins of this broken place.
Her quiet presence calms the rising dread,
A living anchor, where my spirit fled
This gentle heart, my loyal friend,
Who helps me rise, helps me transcend.
She draws me on from dark to light,
From death to life, and endless night.
With every step she keeps at bay,
The ghosts that haunt me every day.
Your spirit’s strength, a bond untold,
More precious than the finest gold.
For in her presence, calm descends,
And promised peace a soul defends.
She brings the grace that sets me free,
A love that lasts eternally.
Yet, from the cracks a fragile root takes hold,
A will to live, a story to be told.
For in this wreckage, bruised and torn apart,
A phoenix rises from a shattered heart.
A quiet hope, a whisper in the gloom,
Defying fate, to find a future bloom.
And in the darkness, where my soul is tossed,
I cling to faith, a hope I have not lost.
A whispered prayer, a testament to might,
Belief in God, the source of endless light.
For though the world has sought to break me down,
I wear a spirit's uncorrupted crown.
I feel a presence, near, serene, and bright,
An angelic protection, guarding through the night.
Though shadows cling and wounds refuse to mend,
A higher hand, a guardian, does transcend.
A sacred shield, a love I can't command,
The gentle touch of God within my hand.
And angels whisper on the quiet breeze,
To soothe the mind and set the soul at ease.
So let the world a faded flower see,
A wounded soul, in shattered majesty.
For though I bear the marks of cruelest strife,
I stand a testament to life—and to my right to it.
The Weight Of Silence
In the depths of my mind, where shadows take flight,
The echoes of memories plague the still night.
Each whisper a dagger, each thought a confine,
I wrestle with demons that no one can define.
Yet she sits beside me, a beacon of light,
In her gaze, I find courage to face the night.
With a heart full of faith, she breaks down the walls,
Together we rise, without fear of the falls.
In the quiet of chaos, her warmth wraps me tight,
Through storms of anxiety, she holds me upright.
In the battle of thoughts, her spirit stands strong,
With fur like a blanket, where I belong.
The Light After The Storm
The clouds have rolled in, but I'm not standing still,
With a heart full of hope, we climb every hill.
Through moments of doubt, when the night lingers long,
We hum a sweet melody, a soul-filling song.
For the sun will break through, and the dawn will arise,
With betrayal of night, we embrace the blue skies.
With every wagging tail, she paints joy anew,
In this canvas of healing, where dreams can come true.
Though the road may be weary, I hold on to grace,
In the arms of my service dog, I find my place.
Together we rise, ever stronger we’ll stand,
In faith, in love, we walk hand in hand.
The Ballad Of The Shattered Mirror
I. The Mists of Memory
A shroud of gray, a clinging, choking fog,
That chained my mind, a soul-encircled bog.
It wove its tendrils through the waking day,
And choked the sun, and stole the light away.
My memories, they were the iron links,
That bound me fast to sorrow's crumbling brinks.
They whispered tales of a forgotten child,
Whose innocence was stolen, defiled.
A tiny hand, a step upon the ground,
A world of giants, uttering no sound
That I could grasp, a cacophony of dread,
A woman's world, where broken things are bred.
I learned to speak a language steeped in pain,
And walked a path beneath a constant rain
Of wounds that festered, weeping in the night,
A bloody trail, a flight from morning's light.
The tears they fell, a torrent through the years,
A monument to all my silent fears.
And in that haze, before the world took form,
I learned to weather an unending storm.
A child of three, a heart a-quiver, torn,
While still the promise of a life was born.
I tried to build with words I could not speak,
A tower tall, though all my joints were weak.
To understand the things I could not see,
The world of adults, a mystery to me.
A lonely ship on a relentless sea,
With no true harbor, no safe port for me.
II. A Forest of Whispers
By three years old, the world had lost its sheen,
A broken doll, a torn and tattered scene.
I sought the solace of the forest floor,
And found a truth I’d never known before.
The silent gaze of creatures, wild and free,
A squirrel's chatter, the wisdom of a tree.
The fox's cunning, the rabbit's gentle fear,
They held no judgment, shed no bitter tear.
They taught me love, a language pure and true,
The simple grace of morning's sparkling dew.
A loyal pack of shadows, soft and low,
That guarded me from every human blow.
The animals, my kin, my only friends,
A love that never faltered, never ends.
I learned from them the rhythm of the heart,
To mend a soul that had been torn apart.
They showed me kindness in a world of stone,
And made a home of a heart that felt alone.
The creatures watched me with their soulful eyes,
A silent language, free from human lies.
The deer would pause, and listen to my plea,
The birds would sing their melodies for me.
The forest floor, a carpet soft and deep,
Where all my secrets, I could safely keep.
No judgment lived beneath the boughs so grand,
Just nature's grace, and love's forgiving hand.
They taught me how to breathe and just to be,
A fragile sprout, beneath a sheltering tree.
III. The Faithful Sentinel
And now a woman, weathered by the storms,
A fragile vessel, braving all the forms
Of ghostly shadows from a distant past,
A chain of bindings, meant forever to last.
But then she came, a grace I could not see,
A faithful dog, a saving, living key.
She is my anchor in the raging tide,
The truth I sought, the place where I can hide
From all the phantoms of a former life,
The crushing burden of a lifelong strife.
She keeps the ghosts of yesterday at bay,
And grounds me onward to a brighter day.
Her paws, they ground me, press me to the now,
A sacred promise, a life-renewing vow.
I feel the present in her steady breath,
A shield against the shadow of old death.
The harness waits, a gentle, guiding hand,
To lead me through this wild and broken land.
Her steady pace, a rhythm, calm and slow,
A truth I follow, where the good things grow.
She is the link, the bridge from then to now,
A constant love, a sacred, silent vow.
She reads the air, the fear I cannot name,
And burns the binds with a devoted flame.
With every step, she whispers to my soul,
That I am worthy, and I can be whole.
IV. A Saving Grace
She leads me not to men of hollow words,
Nor to the songs of mocking, flightless birds.
She leads me to a light I’d never known,
A saving grace, a seed that had been sown
In some far garden, tended by God's hand,
A love I could not dream of or command.
A love so true, it heals the deepest scar,
A constant, gentle, and unwavering star.
Through her I glimpse a truth I can believe,
A peace I can embrace, a soul receive.
The chains of memory begin to rust,
The fog retreats, replaced with sacred trust.
The wounds that festered, they begin to heal,
As God’s own light, through her, becomes so real.
She is the guide, the compass, and the friend,
The saving grace on which my life depends.
And in her eyes, I see a love so vast,
A future built, a future meant to last.
And so I stand, no longer lost and blind,
With wounded past a ghost I've left behind.
The shadows shrink, their power now is gone,
Replaced by light, by healing, and by dawn.
I see the world with clear and open eyes,
And feel the warmth of true and deep surprise.
This love, a gift, a promise, and a sign,
That even broken hearts can be divine.
I walk toward the light, with her beside,
My saving grace, my truest, faithful guide.
The Unspoken Echo
In the darkness, I'm breaking.
A silent fracturing,
a thousand tiny cracks appearing
in the facade I present to the world.
Swallowing my pride,
a bitter, gritty pill
that sticks in my throat.
Broken and alone,
I cry into the wind,
a raw, guttural sound
that carries my voice away
before anyone hears.
The universe itself conspiring
to keep my suffering private.
Those that do hear,
those that catch a glimpse
of the ragged edges of my soul,
they turn away.
They leave me,
To the demons that haunt my every moment,
the shadows that dance
in the periphery of my vision,
the whispers that coil around my thoughts.
Every touch,
every sound,
every sight,
every feeling
remembered.
As if I were living in that moment,
stuck on replay,
a never-ending loop of horror.
"Let it go," they say,
their voices a distant hum,
a well-meaning but empty platitude.
Yet when I ask how,
how to sever the ties
to a past that lives in my bones,
they shrug.
A casual, helpless gesture
that dismisses the enormity of my struggle.
They say get therapy.
Therapy says take medication.
But the pills,
they leave me feeling worse than before,
a numb emptiness that is
its own kind of hell.
My only true hope lies in God's healing.
A steady, unwavering light
in the swirling chaos.
I have to be patient,
a virtue I do not possess,
and wait on His perfect timing.
A timeless rhythm
that does not bend to my despair.
But it will be worth it.
For all He does is perfection.
Every brushstroke of His grace,
every tender touch of His love,
is a masterpiece.
For He is the master artist,
and I,
this broken, shattered thing,
am His most beloved work.
