My Stronghold

The wind blew fierce,

driving the snow

Into hard-packed drifts.

It whistled and moaned

Around the building’s corners.

The weeds bent low

under the force.

The trees whipped and creaked,

skeletons against the

Grey, bleak sky.

There in the sky

hung a bird,

Skillfully riding the currents.

So free, was he,

From the turbulence around him.

All about me

beat the winds of strife,

Threat’ning to overcome me.

I cry for help

To my mighty Stronghold.

He holds me safely

in His strong hand,

And gently carries me through.

Listen my dear friend—

For He’ll do the same for you.

Wendy

written December 8, 1982

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