Soul Search

by Anna Stephens   Nov 3, 2015


She stands before her mirror
A woman well past her prime
And looks through her reflection
Into a time gone by.

Wonders if she truly had,
As seems on nights like this,
Counting her success or not,
A life full of regrets.

Would she change the life she lived?
Could it all have been a waste?
Should she even stop to guess
How all of it might end?

A bout or two with Satan's song.
Lessons learned through tragedy.
Good or bad? Whose call to make?
She knows not the answer.

Can't erase the journey's steps
Nor reverse the march of time
Or swallow words misspoken
In temper's fire and rage.

Hateful deeds, revenge was sweet.
Thou shall not covet, she ignored.
Instant pleasure, eyes so blind
Decisions made in haste.

To the mirror she turns her back.
Her tears are those of sorrow.
She whispers softly to herself,
"Forgive me, God. Amen"

copyright Anna Stephens

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Latest Comments

  • 10 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    Its a journey we all take and there is so much pain, anger, sorrow as well as hate. These are life's lessons and sometimes we wish we could have done or not done certain things. The title fits well with the poem..a touching write.

  • 10 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    Its a journey we all take and there is so much pain, anger, sorrow as well as hate. These are life's lessons and sometimes we wish we could have done or not done certain things. The title fits well with the poem..a touching write.

  • 10 years ago

    by Cindy

    Anna
    You bring such passion to every poem you pen.This one is no exception. The moving of the clock and time goes marching on. Before you know it you look in that mirror and see a person looking back at you that you don't know.except that you find yourself alone. With to much time to think of the past. How you wish you could change things that you can't. Knowing soon your time will soon be over.
    Excellent job on this.
    Love Cindy

  • 10 years ago

    by Larry Chamberlin

    To thine self be true.
    But who is it you are and how can you be true to a moving target?
    Wonderful poem, Anna, the title is perfectly attuned to the poem. Somehow I think you are more attuned to yourself in each of your phases.

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