“He drew me up from the desolate pit,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.” Psalm 40:2
so many rocks grief
has slipped into my pockets,
so much mud caked
on my shoes from thinking
i could slog through life alone,
and as i slowly begin to sink
into that quicksand of despair
which has filled my path,
i feel your hand beneath me,
gently lifting me, not to place
me on some seat of power—
but on good, old, ordinary dirt,
that earth hard packed from
so many stumblers before me,
that has held trembling feet
and knocking knees, as we learn
to take just one hesitant, fearful
step
onto that ground you make holy
simply because you refuse
to leave our side.
© 2025 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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