Rooted, I am rooted in what passes all understanding,
I am rooted in what cannot be shaken.
When the jackals claw at my feet,
When the vultures are greedy for my soul,
I know that I am rooted.
I will not break, I will not fall,
I will not change to suit.
I am rooted in the one thing that will never change
and He is rooted in me.
![[album.jpg]](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyniDLVrOwbfnGfc6BOvnXK_MysuqSYzdUB__Bg-WZtGsz7TLf533wFpy7c0d9stZeTP6FYXzAkRhOejrNJDA54iIXRGk35uQ1pc3F4iZitJtEZB57R2l8zsWbCSjs7GXMdZ8nb-_npWY/s1600/album.jpg)
4 comments:
Beautiful. Stunning. Eloquent. I can't rave enough about it. I love it.
My Sunday Scribblings are posted, too. Stop by!
What I like best about this poem is its shape - anvil shaped. This is relevant because traditionally an anvil's base was made from a tree root - the strongest part of a tree, strong enough to take the stress of the smith's pounding. I love hidden depths like that.
This was a very moving poem- it will stay with me today...
How poignant in it's simplicity. Kudos.
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