Poetry: He Lives

Poem from Inspirational Poems for the Storms by Tamarah Mack

He lives and sits on his throne above like the clouds sit in the sky.  Like a squirrel lying dead in the middle of the street, I could have died.  I don’t know how my mind is being kept for I should be like a psycho seeking to do harm. Instead, like an angel covering me with his wings, he widely opens his arms;

Covering me with a shield, like a soldier is covered with armor for war, I should be like an alcoholic, seeking expensive drinks daily at the bar;
I have been through the wilderness like Moses for 40 days and 40 nights; I’ve been lost like an unknown traveler, but he assisted me with his glorious light.  For I know he is not dead, in fact, he rose on the third day like self-rising flour; he is alive and I can call on him any second, any minute, even in the midnight hour;

Events in life are like friends that go and come, come and go.  He saved me from the pit, called “Sheol.”  Death knocked at my door like a postman with a certified letter; he has been with me through the hot, cold, gloomy, rainy, and stormy weather.  He protects me like a cat protects her kittens and a dog protect her pups.  Oh yes, he lives each and every day because I feels his steadfast love.  He never treated me like a baby; around my neck, there’s no bib—but he trained me like a soldier for war, yes, he lives!
Do you think he lives?



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