Photo by Ravi Roshan on Unsplash

a sapling

my protection

Shielded by his house
Storms swirled around me.

He nourished me
I trusted him

Until that fateful day.
His tongue cut

my branches
s  p  l  a  y
on the ground

My house was supposed to protect me.
But he broke me.
My house–an illusion.
Not made of brick but straw.

My Maker gathered my bruised twigs,
Transplanting me next to Him.
I snuggle close to my Maker’s house.
I am protected.


*Just a note: For those of you who worry, please don’t read into this. This is not a commentary on my current life. I was looking through old journals and had fun shaping a time when I learned to trust in God, not man into a poem. I hope you enjoy it.


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