Swimming to the Promised Land

icicles on barn

When Sun shines bright, my grip relaxes,

I let go of death and taxes,

pool at place where thirst is quenched,

smile where jaw was tightly clenched.

Puddling messes can be scary,

Life’s complex, and heart is wary,

but when fist becomes a hand,

soul can swim to Promised Land.


For more on this topic, visit Growing With God in My Garden