It’s you…
You robber of joy, you stealer of laughter. You’ve taken our peace, that’s what you’re after.
You’ve stolen my love, taken him away again, and replaced his smile, with anger and pain.
You took our hope, you’ve stolen his light, you made him believe that life isn’t worth the fight.
You inject us with strife, what slick lies you weave, you seek to destroy, hoping one of us leaves.
But, oh… once again, you’ve overplayed your hand! Through the havoc you wreak I understand…
That’s it’s you…the accuser, the liar, the thief; not my husband, not our lives, it’s not even me.
For those who’ve felt the crush of bipolar, and for the loved ones still standing when the heaviness takes over,
only you can know, how isolating it feels, when the blanket of oppression so stealthily steals.
But, take heart my love, and for all those who suffer, you will stand again, and fight the blackness that hovers.
For it IS a battle, we who fight illness know, how tenacious it is, it doesn’t easily go.
Yet, the Light is coming, hold on a little more…See? here He comes, through the open door.
He bares our weariness, heartbreak and stress, beckons us to Him, so we may finally rest.
So, don’t worry, my sweet, it will be alright, take my hand and together, we’ll step into the Light.
The people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.
Matthew 4:16
