Poetry

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The waves are breaking
higher up the shore
lapping at my feet,
eating away the dry ground,
devouring my safety.

And I walk the shore line.
Watching the building storm
as the rain blows
sidewards in my face,
running down like tears

It's lapping at the wall now
and around my feet.
It's icy hands clasping
at my ankles,
pulling me deeper

The steps are just a
little way ahead
through storm stirred
depths that threatens
to overwhelm

Lord who once
calmed the storm,
who walked on the waves.
Take my hand tonight
and lead me to dry land.

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