Poetry

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The sun and moon stand still,
Arrows drive them away;
Speaking God through His will,
Because we disobey.

The light of our source,
The flash of a bright light;
While we stay the course,
Not doing what is right.

But we have crouched in fear,
Bright light past our lair;
From the glittering spear,
Caused me to say a prayer.

God furiously stomps,
On the earth in anger;
Because the devil romps,
Doing what is vulgar.

God wants to deliver,
Bringing you His servant;
To be a forgiver,
From sin that is fervent.

He will strike the leader,
Of the wicked nation;
Who is an impeder,
Of our salvation.

We pierced the hands and feet,
The storm starts to scatter;
Shouts of joy to plunder,
As the people gather.

God tramples on the sea,
Raging waters surging;
Drowns troops from His decree,
For enemy purging.

I heard my stomach churn,
Making my lips quiver;
Giving me some concern,
Made me limp and shiver.

My bones were decaying,
Shook as I tried to walk;
I knelt to start praying,
But stuttered tried to talk.

But the Lord is my source,
Giving strength to rejoice;
Wisdom to stay the course,
And giving me a voice.

Copyright © 2018 Richard Newton Sherrer

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