A Psalmic Response
The valley I once thought filled
With thieves, murderous but simple
Opens today with unknown complexity.
The horde I had heard
Composed of those who shun the light
Shouts its challenge under the sun.
Long I’ve held Your hand,
And simple was my trust.
Let it still be simple.
The world I knew was a place of justice;
A man’s deeds led to what was done,
and it was finished.
Here though, men are rewarded for disregard.
A terrible flaw is as armor.
The sword of justice finds no hold.
Your light’s a narrow ray,
Guiding homeward those who seek.
It cuts where human swords and minds cannot.
So in this valley, though it may seem deep,
I won’t run, nor will I fight.
My sword is not my own.
Even were ocean breakers to crash o’er my head,
Your hand would pull me from that puddle.
My wet hair would testify.
I am where I am, on my knees, face held straight
Because I could do naught else.
I am His, and His light is mine.