James’s Blog: A Psalm of the Storm

Crunching along the path,

the black skies reflect

on how easily I mislay my peace:

Like a five pence coin, a TV remote

or a needle in a haystack.

They used to call it the Pax Deus.

Better it is,

than the Pax so-called

of Romana, Britannica, or the

Americana we have these days.

 

Passing all understanding makes it fragile.

Inevitably broken,

like a light bulb in your pocket.

Funny how it still seems to work

when the room goes dark.

 

The river at my side grumbles,

as does my heart.

And my mind?

It just comes along for the ride

as the clouds form an angry congregation.

 

And on days like these,

when I can’t decide

if my soul is cold or warm,

I hurl my praise in Your direction,

the God of the sun and the storm.

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