My soul has been weary,
exhausted,frazzled and fried,
troubled and tired,
worn out with other's cares.
The Lord is my Shepherd.
He restores my soul
on a narrow coastal path,
with sheer cliff face.
My stride has slowed,
watching for the time
in my over busy life,
that I can rest.
Bracken and purple tufted heather
tumble down to the
white tipped waves,
meeting billowed mist
rolling off towering rocks.
I come here
full of expectancy,
that I will somehow
find my answer
in this place.
Wild goats wander
the impossible incline,
with a sure footed
defiance of gravity.
I find myself still
in a hurry to do life,
unwilling to truly rest
for time is preciously short.
We stride out
resisting the threatening skies,
buffeted by wind,
at times so loud
we cannot hear each other's words.
South Wales nestles
in the far distance,
among cloud castle ramparts.
at times so loud
we cannot hear each other's words.
South Wales nestles
in the far distance,
among cloud castle ramparts.
The late afternoon
creeps towards dusk.
I begin to find peace,
held securely
in God's strong hands,
on this winding way.
The busy past and restless future
are somehow kept at bay,
and surrounded by
His own Creation,
the Lord begins
to restore my soul.
I wrote this poem in 2017, but it seems I am still on a journey to learn how to rest. I think the sentence, "I find myself still in a hurry to do life, unwilling to truly rest for time is preciously short" has been a reality for so much of my adulthood. I need to learn to do what the Lord shows me, more often than what I make up for myself. Then there will be those unforced rhythms of grace allowing doing and being, and I will give Him time to restore my soul.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sarah. I relate to this. Find it so hard to ‘be still’ and rest and just be… love the imagery!
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