Striking the Colors

You are God of the wind and the root,
and I, a flag between the two;
tethered to the Truth,
bowing, blowing, windstrewn.
No roots of my own, but a tangle
Of knot and cord
And strangled
And held secure.
Falling flat, stretching unfurled,
And always clinging to my stake
In the ground, in this world
I pray You remake.
Unyielding in my doubt,
Compliant with each gale
Rippling me throughout.
You who never fail, don’t fail
Never release, nor relent,

Even when I fall,
Even when I fail to repent.

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4 responses to “Striking the Colors

  • wordcoaster

    The tension here is so taut you can taste it in your throat as you swallow the words. Ohmygoodness my favorite part? Definitely
    No roots of my own, but a tangle
    Of knot and cord
    And strangled
    And held secure. <–These words really struck a chord and I could feel their tug of war. 🙂

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