Waking From a Nightmare
by E. Prout
My heart is pounding in my chest
All of me is drenched in sweat
I don’t know why—I didn’t dream
I don’t remember anything
I still can’t breathe—my chest still burns
And every muscle in me hurts
Whatever happened, I can’t say
Last minute dark and now it’s day
I look around and see myself
At home, the Gospel on a shelf
Has it a meaning?—I don’t know
It’s like the Savior turned to go
I don’t know how to call Him back
It’s just a feeling not a fact
I’ve learned to breathe again, I think
But somehow I’m still scared to blink
Of going back where I belong—
I’ll speak the truth inside a song
I’ll sing of home and going there
I’ll sing of home—there’s no night there
I’ll sing of pastures green enough
I’ll speak of fiery tongues and love
Of God’s anointing pow’r in me
Of all the things my eyes can’t see
Of who I am, and who You are
Of rushing winds and falling stars
I wish I could stop failing You,
But this is all I know to do.
You found me when I didn’t ask
You found me—called me up to task
You called me when I thought I loved You
You called me, and You led me to You
I thought I knew about Your grace
But still I asked if I was saved
I never thought You’d change Your mind
Or thought that I’d be left behind
That’s all I wondered when You found me
When my fears were out to drown me
Swimming in the storm I’d made—
The storm I’m swimming in today
I’d thought I’d beaten this all down
But now You’re leaving me to drown
You never have—You never will
Why can’t I ever just be still
Why can’t I hear You in the wind—
“Because You aren’t listening.
If you were, my darlin’ dear,
You would know I will still be here.”
About the Poet
E. Prout is an education student from Northern Michigan who began publishing her own work five years ago. She writes poems and songs about various topics, especially her faith and personal struggles. Her short stories tend to reside in the real world, though her long stories lean more toward the fantastic.
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