O God more chronic than the racking wheeze
of destitution’s sickest prisoner,
more present than exhaustion’s endless blur
and wider than depression’s unshored seas,
more long-abiding than old apathy’s
hibernal freeze, than love for years deferred,
than hope within an unmarked grave interred,
and older than the ruin of disease;
Who cuts more swiftly than the sharpest sword,
binds tighter than the strongest twisted cord,
and dyes more deeply than the blackest stain;
O God who brooks no challenge to your reign;
have mercy.
When I walk where night holds sway—
arise! Reveal to me your boundless day.
The poetry here is always free to read, but I do offer paid subscription options for anyone who would like to support my work.
If you wish to show your support but a paid subscription is out of reach, you can simply buy me a coffee and help me stay awake so I can write more.
Whether or not you choose either of these options, I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to spend time here. Your presence is support enough!
This poem was generated by the author’s human mind. No AI chatbot was used.
There is so much here, Mark, and so deftly pieced together. I’m reading Job right now, and this is a perfect match. Your poems are always rewarding.
Gorgeous (so much more than that, but I'm out of words at the moment).