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The Silent War

No peace... inner turmoil riding the wind like a wild horse and rider. Emotions flair and fires are kindled that flicker and burn through... leaving sores in our flesh. Not easily forgotten are these wounds that leave scars of callus and hurt.

Time and time again... slashes of comments... that silence... the silence that leaves the mind to brew a drink of resentment. Once tasted, can fill the belly with hate. Not the kind of hate that replaces love. For unconditional and understood love is always there... but this hate is composed of stone. Little stones that, like the scars, lay untouched, unresolved... painful.

Moments... days... time goes by and a wall begins to take shape. Not a grand display of constructive proportion, but little stones and the mortar of scars lay together... surrounding the soul and the thoughts. Hard to penetrate. Difficult to break. And it robs the soul of the peace once there.

Like a thief in the night... unseen... unannounced... it stands in the darkness of the mind. A constant reminder of the presence of the silent war. A matter unresolved... a word never spoken... the taste of resentment on the lips... turning to stone.

Oh, that I could have wisdom. Place my very being in the hands of the Redeemer who, with forgiveness in His heart, looked upon me with love. With all that I have said and done in His presence... He was silent only once. The scars that He will bear because of Calvary are in hands that reach out to me when I fall. He would not taste the drink of resentment offered Him by the soldiers of that silent war... for He loved and understood our need. The stones that made the foundation were the Cornerstone. The veil that blackened our souls was torn...

And there was peace.

Written Aug. 8, 1992
The Silent War
by Donna Yasoni

Reference Verses:

"It Does Make A Difference What You Believe"