Danger of Floods

As the storm approaches
you head for higher ground,
clambering up rocks already slick
with the damp drizzle that has begun to fall.

You climb, aware of the danger of floods
that have more than once carried you
like a rag doll, down the river
and left you broken. You bones still ache

at the memory.
And so you climb, cut and bruised,
for the lone tree that still stands
true as the cross on Calvary,

a survivor and a beacon both,
not so much from the storm itself
which will rage through the night,
but from being swept away

to a place where your body and soul
will never be found.

About this poem

We all have a safe place, a place we go when life becomes a storm. It may be in ourselves, as we close down to weather the battering, or it may be in the arms of a lover, or in the grip of God, however we know him.

It is where we go to survive.

This poem was inspired by my bible readings this morning, from Psalm 61:2, which reads”  From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. ” and from this picture, which I took during a quarrywalk yesterday afternoon.

Be well,

Tom