Lord hear my soul

Precious Lord of my soul
I look to you in night’s web of darkness
and dawn’s sweet, soft light
in hope, in wonder.
In supplest nuances
and bold staccatos of sound
You exclaim your presence
again, and yet again

There You are
but . . .
how do I cross
the bridge of my unknowing
to meet you unwaveringly?

Silent moments slide by
An ocean’s worth
while I look and wonder
And question –

Who are you?
Why am I here?
And most important –
What use can I possibly be
to your purpose?

I am as lost
As one of your sheep
slow-witted and dumb
breaking from the safety
of your guiding presence.

As angry and suspicious
as Moses’ Israelites
only believing during blessings –
fighting, scratching, bitterly rebellious
until God’s plagues of rage
or bold strokes of divine intervention
shake them from their torpor.

I am no more
Than those ancient peoples
But – I trust
Just as the race itself was saved
So shall I be
As long as I believe.

goat wrangler

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