O wretched man 

There are those days
when shadows of
my lesser self
obstruct the light,
and in my groping,
Nephi’s words
reflect my plight:
“O wretched man … I am!”
With him I grieve,
and sorrow
over frailties
that haunt my
conscious mind
and tempt with
hopelessness
relief
I seek to find.

Yet there is One
whose light
will never fail,
whose mercy
makes a way
for my escape.
He opens up the gates.
His love can make me whole!
And with Nephi
I rejoice
and plead,
“O Lord, …
redeem my soul”!

-Phyllis Baker White

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I found you in Him

For the longest time all I ever felt was pain…
Everything that hurt, I knew.
All things that tore the soul apart were mine.
My sorrow ran so deep, despair pumped through these veins.
I lost myself without you.

I lost myself without you.

I lost myself without you… until I found you in Him.
And by finding Him I found myself.
I found love.
I found peace.
Peace not as the world gives, but His peace.
My heart is no longer troubled.
Neither is it afraid.

– Mamello Maitse

Stay

I watched you walk across the room as my heart wept.
Stay, I whispered.
You let go of the door and paused for what felt like forever.
So I pleaded…
Stay.
Still you stood there – silent.
I drew closer and hugged your back.
You took my hands in yours and placed them against your chest.
You said nothing.
Stay…
The only word these lips could utter as my tears wet your back.
I wept…
You left.

-Mamello Maitse

I see me…

I see me…
Until now all I saw was you
All I thought was you
All I felt was you
My life was you

My existence was your shadow
Lingering at your side but never able to reach you
Confined to being with you without having you

I see me…
All of me
Unmarred by your memory
Free from the person who worshipped you

I see ME…
Me without you

– Mamello Maitse

“Loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction”

our love…
exists.
our love exists,
behind closed doors,
behind four walls
that push up against my lungs
squeezing until I suffocate.
our love exists while you
stand there and stare,
open mouthed
unable to accept
the fact that you denied
a delicate butterfly
the right to take off
that you set fire to a field
of tulips that were begging
for new fallen rain.
you touch me with electricity,
but i am used to this burn.
i am used to this broken feeling;
the feeling after your wings have been
plucked off
and every last layer of skin
has been set on
fire.

– By Alex