Upon This Rock

leaf on rock


Upon this rock I take my stand,

I shall not stand alone;

I feel a strength beneath my feet,

A strength that’s not my own.

I feel a coolness in its shade,

A balm for flitting breast;

I feel the pulse of holy heat,

A place to sit and rest.


Upon this rock I build my life,

I shall not build in vain;

It anchors me to solid ground,

And lifts me up again.

A sure foundation, set in stone,

An anchor for life’s seas –

So blow and bluster, autumn wind,

You shall not conquer me.






Between a Rock and a Dying Place

She’s caught between a rock and a dying place,

where alternatives and choices are equally grim.

Ignore, and bend backwards to save some face,

or confront, and rip band-aids, and risk losing him?

Her heart shrinks from either, is loath to proceed,

both beasts in chest’s cavity snarl to be heard;

to step out and risk is to make her soul bleed,

but  to not act will curse self, condemn hope deferred.