Poetry

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You stripped the sheath from your bow,
Calling for many arrows;
You have split the earth to show,
The rivers by the meadows.

The mountains saw You and shook,
As raging waters swept on;
The deep gave forth voice that took,
Its hands lifting high at dawn.

The sun and the moon stood still,
Within their place at the light;
Your arrows had sped to fill,
The flash of glittering might.

You marched through the earth with wrath,
Thrashed in anger the nations;
Killing heathens in Your path,
For having indignations.

You went out for salvation,
Salvation of Your anointed;
Crushing with indignation,
The wicked that afflicted.

You pierced with their own arrows,
The heads of his warriors;
Onto the ground, their blood flows,
Scattering their superiors.

You walked the sea with horses,
The surging mighty waters;
Hearing the trembling sources,
From their sons and daughters.

For as the body trembles,
The sound as the lips quiver;
Hearing my voice that rambles,
My flesh began to shiver.

Rottenness enters my bones,
My legs tremble beneath me;
A pain was causing my moans,
Blurry eyes that could not see.

Because the day of trouble,
Came upon when they invade;
The fig tree fell to rubble,
As the Russians made the raid.

Copyright ©2022 Richard Newton Sherrer

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