When Moses said, when
David said, when the Bible says, when the song says, when I say...
That ‘The Lord is my
Rock’,
What do you think of?
Do you picture a mountain?
Standing proud, chasing
clouds
Challenging you to scale
its heights
Overcome fears
And share the view?
Do you think of a craggy cave
With secret crevices in
which to hide?
Dark depths that hold no
threat
A fortress against the
enemy
A refuge in which to rest
until the storm has passed
Or about the rocks that
lie mismatched
Crosshatched
Along river beds or cliff
bases?
Beckoning you to clamber
over them
To feel their surfaces
beneath your feet and hands
Each one wears its past
like a map
Fractures and fissures and
unexpected colours trace their origins
I like a big rock with a
polished coat that sits beside the sea and soaks up the sun
After a dip in icy water,
i climb onto it and lie, eyes closed, lashes dripping, and feel the heat seep
into my skin
Or do you imagine
something a lot smaller?
A rock you can fit in the
palm of your hand
Like the smooth black
stones my grandfather used to collect
Now that he’s gone
I keep one on the
mantelpiece
My thumb strokes it
And remembers
Or how about a grain of
sand?
Sifting through my fingers
They remind me of my
insignificance
But also of a promise
And that God knows
Just like he knows the
number of hairs on my head
Just like he knows
whenever a sparrow falls
Each grain could tell a
story
Each one used to be part
of something bigger
-A stepping stone, a cave,
a cliff, a mountain
Each one could be traced
back to its father
The rock from which it
came
BUT
Rocks shake and rocks
break
They crack
Fall back to earth
They splinter and quake
And crumble and tumble
And destruct and destroy
And I’m not sure how safe
you are and how neat a comparison this is?
But you’re not neat – are
you?
Beaver said of Aslan, ‘He
is not safe, but he is good’
And so I long
Whatever shape you come in
To be a chip off the old
block
My Father
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