A Cleft In the Rock

A place by him to stand on—the rock. As his glory glides by, he hides me in its cleft; covers me with his hand while his glow dazzles, brighter than a million suns. The rock, immovable rock—a place of safety; by his side—warm in winter, cool in summer. There he shields me from his glare; from the splash of his churning righteous wrath. But God’s slow to kill—rarely does, restrained by love heftier than hurt the world heaps up on him. His anger may boil, drive me mad; a cleft by his side, wide & deep, yawns a hide away. Not ready to roil his heart, he holds back the bile, wishing I see his strength lies in love; would let his son clean up the mess: die for me, so I may live for him. He knew my form before I was; knows me now, tender and weak: he, firm. He framed me of frail dust—tending me down the way of dust on the wing of his love till, perchance, I step on street of gold. His love’s golden, there for me. And that, by his grace! I can’t fathom the mystery, for I’m wilting grass, unsafe in the sun, save in the deep cleft of the rock. © 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi