CWJC gave me the confidence to call myself a poet and to be able to share my poetry.  When I came to CWJC, I was embarrassed to let anyone know I wrote poems.  Through CWJC I have learned God has given me a gift to be proud of and to use.

By Renea Cox

You held my hand
And searched my face
You touched the scars
From a long ago place.

They are there to remind me
Of where I’ve been.
And not to go back there
Not ever again.

They’ll always be there
For the world to see
And someone might ask
What happened to me.

They hold a story
I have to tell
How I walked from the light
And into Hell.  

These scars will tell
Of all I lost.
Of the darkest dark
And of the fight that was fought.

How two great forces
Much stronger than me
Fought for my soul
And my eternity.

The battle was fierce
And swords were drawn.
There was gnashing of teeth
And lightning flung.

How I lived through it
I may never know.
But God has a plan
And He beat His foe.

Now all that’s left
Of that mighty scene
Are these scars on my hands
And the story they bring.

My hands hold a message
Of His Mercy and Grace
And these scars, just reminders
Of a long ago place.