Missionary
- Listen to me read this poem.
Against the wind forgotten I still stand
The sand swirls around me
Beating me like thousands of tiny fists
Each with resplendent rings upon each finger
Of the vain pursuits of riches in this world
I cannot grip the sand that swirls,
My grip is faltering, I cannot hold on
Soon I shall be swept away into the storm
I shall be lifted away and never see land again
I shall fall into the swirling tempest and be lost
And yet as I grapple there in the storm
My fingers seize hold of a rock,
Feet flying in the air now against the harsh wind
I grip with all my strength
So that the world’s worst storm shall not take me
I cling to the Rock.
There in the storm of darkness
My eyes tightly shut against the swirling sands
I hold tight to the Rock.
The calm serenity of its cool surface calms me
Nothing can shatter my peace,
I am alone, peaceful in a world gone mad
A gust of wind sends my feet flying
But still I hold on with my fingers.
This rock is the crust of the earth itself
My grip shall not fail.
The rock rises.
It grows.
Where once little more than a pebble stood
there now stands a cave of stone
No wind gusts past the stone.
My feet touch the still sand which is not like
all the other sand that flies about the air
I enter the cavern, which is not dark
I rest my head back against the cool wall
Taking sleep out from the storm
No wailing wind can take me here.
I am in my safety of the Rock
No fists of sand can beat me
I am safe in the Rock.
Time passes, I wake
Looking out I see no sand swirl
All lies serene beneath the blazing sun
In the shade of the Rock I am saved
from scorching by rays harsh
Thirst lies in my throat
I long for water
There is no lake, sea or stream in all my sight
A long march across the desert burning
Is not something I can do alone
It is silent in the desert
Nothing stirs beneath the scorching sun
I am silent beneath the shade of the Rock
And yet, I am thirsty.
I take up my staff, True Faith
Once I smite the rock,
A stream issues forth, lapping upon my feet
My thirst is quenched by this water cool
No desert can discourage me
No swirling sands nor scorching heat
Not one with True Faith
I trust in the Rock
My shelter, My Providence
Nothing can assail me from under the Rock’s shadow
In the cool, I am safe from all.
And yet it is not my job to languish in peace
Though sweet it may be for a time
In time all peace shall seem sour
My job is not to rest as others suffer amid the
swirling sands, the scorching sun
If only they knew about the Rock
If only they had faith in the Rock
I must go tell them. They must know.
Away from my shelter I seem to depart
And yet it still goes with me upon my mission
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