No Strange Land

Lord, it's so easy to give in.

To let the clouds gather

dark and threatening,

whipped up by the winds of my own fear.

Mists of my own making

blotting out the light and warmth of your presence.

So easy, in mouth-dry anxiety,

to feel alone.

Abandoned. Unprotected.

To roll in nettlebeds of self-pity,

the pain spreading as vision contracts,

until my horizon is described

by the jangled nerve endings of my despair.

Estranged. Alien.

Each accustomed act, new,

unknown, frightening.

And yet, Lord, you are near.

I hold on to your promise

„For I am with you, always.“

Always. Unconditional.

Words echoing

through the deep caverns of my doubt,

sometimes distant, sometimes near.

I reach out

feeling in the dark for reassurance.

And we meet. Touch.

Your hand held out too. First.

I hold on, warming my cold, fearful fingers

in the glow of your presence.

I hear your voice,

speaking my language.

Words I understand.

And I realise

there are no stange lands to you.

Your presence everywhere.

Your presence, home.

Thank you.

Eddie Askew

No Strange Land