Poetry

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I hear as my body trembles,
And my lips quiver at the sound;
As a voice like thunder rumbles,
Just as the shaking of the ground.

Rottenness entering my bones,
My legs trembling beneath me;
While hearing my stomach groans,
Blurry vision to what I see.

This day of trouble let me rest,
Because I will quietly wait;
Be able to fulfill my quest,
With riddance of my foes who hate.

For I will never be afraid,
Having the Lord next to my side;
Whenever they choose to invade,
Because in God I will abide.

Though the fig tree should not blossom,
Nor fruit on any of the vines;
I will ensure that no opossum,
Shall never be tasting my wines.

The produce of olives not fail,
The trees bringing such a good yield;
The hard labor that did entail.
Of the time spent out in the field.

The flock shall not ever be cut,
As the herd nestled in their stalls;
The barn doors have been closed and shut,
As dusk begins and the sun falls.

So, I will rejoice in the Lord,
Taking joy in my salvation;
For I remain in one accord,
With my spiritual foundation.

The Lord our God is my strength,
He makes my feet leap like the deer;
Making great strides at any length,
Causing my faith to persevere.

He makes me tread places on high,
Like mountain goats on rocky cliffs;
Never will I be asking why,
Confidence that strife are mere jiffs.

Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer

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