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Poem

Seashell
as I take shape
i lie here in wait 
the wind beating
upon my back
my image carved out 
by gritty sands of
life
i feel my grooves;
their hardness
i get smoothed over
by the warm sun
but  jagged edges
still remain
not as pristine as
when I began
i am swept up 
by the gentle palm
of  tide
the water-it
absolves me
rightly cleansed
 i face sand and
wind again
picked up and thrown
down 
never the right fit
battered by the
elements of time
as I take shape
lifted up from this
place of toil
 at last
held to my saviours’
ear
i sing a song of
redemption
for my glorious god
to hear
-8/3/14-

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