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
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