They set a net for my steps;
my soul was bowed down.
They dug a pit in
my path,
but they have fallen into it
themselves. Psalm
57:6
working throughout
the
night,
death wove the vines
of sin into a fine
mesh,
laying it on the ground
so i might be
ensnared
while walking early in the morning,
but
as he sprinkled the leaves
to cover it, you
tossed
a branch, triggering the trap,
laughing as it
gathered him up
and left him hanging from
the
Tree;
taking turns
digging,
the Temptations sang a dirge,
as they prepared sheol
for me,
deep, wide, slippery,
impossible to
escape
once in, but
as they stood at the
edge
admiring their cleverness,
you shoved them
in,
and
taking me by the
hand,
we skip into the
kingdom.
© 2013 Thom M. Shuman
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment