Poem "The Glory-Tempest"
As I take your Sovereign Hand
I am led into a violent storm
where I am almost
swept away into nothingness.
Almost.
Within the blinding tempest
I discover the gift
of chisel and mallet;
created for shaping,
placed here for testing.
As I take these instruments
I am given a choice;
to keep them within my own grasp
and carve an escape or raft or barrier
to control the disruption
brought on by the storm’s presence,
or I can place these tools into
the Love-Scarred Hands
of the One who designed and formed me,
the One who peers out
beyond this very present storm
into all that is necessary
for my transformation into a vessel
capable of bearing immense glory --
and I let Him choose
which must yield to the
blows of mallet upon chisel --
the storm or me.
(Photo by Torsten Dederichs on Unsplash)
