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ROCK SOLID

she fears the rock,
chiseled out god.
worshipping its curves,
its formless eyes,
pleading at its base.
a virgin, holding out hope,
not to be taken to its cave of horrors.
the rock’s lips are closed tight.
its eyes stare, like the dead.
she shivers.

she runs, weeping,
finds herself at the river of tears.
buxom-heaving, lovely hair hangs
like a willow in despair.

a quiet young man stares,
feeling her sorrow.

embarrassed by her tears,
shivering in the hot sun,
she wipes her sullen eyes.

radiance peeks out from the eyes
of this servant. he offers her a cup of cool water.
his kindness strange to the young woman.

he has good news on his lips,
reparations for a broken heart.

he speaks to her of a living rock,
one who loves His bride.

a promise to her of abundant life.
she sees the truth in his eyes.

she follows him to the cave
where other saints kneel
and she worships, warmed
by the fire of agape love.

her burden lifted,
death could take her now,
she was as strong as an eagle,
no matter what fate awaits,
the words of the Master
like sweet honey,
palatable.

She inclines her ear to listen:

“...Do not tremble, do not be afraid.
Did I not proclaim this and foretell it
long ago? You are my witnesses.
Is there any God besides me?
No, there is no other Rock;
I know not one.”*

*Isaiah 44:8 (Bible NIV)

8/5/2017

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