With a Storm

How do you respond
(w)hen t(h)e w(i)nd (s)hakes your tem(p)orary dwelling?
when the thund(e)r b(r)eaks your sense of calm?

(w)hen t(h)e l(i)ghtning (s)trikes your storehouses?
when all around you is (p)urifying floodwat(e)r and fi(r)e
life-giving,
all-consuming?

What do you do
when the Father answers your prayers with a storm
and a whisper?

Do you run away?
Where else would you go?

There is a response
when the w(i)nd sh(a)kes your te(m)porary dwelling.
when the thunder (b)reaks your sens(e) of calm.

when the lightning (s)trikes your storehouses.
when all around you is purifying floodwa(t)er and f(i)re,
(l)ife-giving,
a(l)l-consuming.

This poem would not be what it is today without the contributions of Andrew Wilson. He helped with both the structure and the content, improving the rough draft immeasurably and guiding the poem to its final form. I’m incredibly grateful for his feedback.

Photo by Victor Rodriguez on Unsplash

Words for the Wind

Words for the Wind.jpg

I take up pen and page to point to truth
And pray my purpose is not rendered vague.
I recognize my mind reveals my youth;
Lord, let me neither tarry nor stravage.
I am a humble runnel of your reign.
Use these my words like water to refresh.
And when I feel my writing is in vain,
Remind me that I do not write for flesh.
These poems need not please the multitude.
These words require no mortal praise nor fame.
These messages may never earn my food;
I pray they ever glorify your name.
I write to please the one who knows my end.
I offer these, my poems for the wind.