Your Way

obeying You
is to obey the pull of gravity
there is no trapdoor escape
from Your will
no path outside
Your unfathomable purpose
for years I fought You
as a swimmer fights
and drowns
in the waves of the sea
but I see now the majesty
of a bruised reed
bowed low
beneath the gentlest breeze
and disregard
the solemn strength
of the mighty oak tree
so fragile before the tempest
I drift and float
on the surface of Your providence
as an insect slides
across the surface tension
of a moving stream
my restless heart for years
has tired of the taught stagnance
of the church
but now my wanderlust
is satisfied
by the changing currents
of Your Way

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