The Hills Are Holding Still

I was staring at the hills, thinking how glad I am that they are so still. And then I started thinking about the pain and darkness in different friends’ lives… Halfway through, the poem insisted on being in the second person–in the voice of God, addressed to the sufferer. Like many of my poems recently, this was written on my phone, and “published” immediately to a handful of family and friends via text message.

In blazing sun, the hills are holding still,
And in the breeze, the trees are touching free.
In your dark pain may you be free and see
My face as you hold still inside My will.

So much of wisdom's strength is staying still
It's bearing all the burning, safe in Me
It's dying any deaths that I decree
To live a life made living here until

My glory breaks the sky and burns the sea,
Your name is named and you rush up to Me
To join my escort to the mercy seat.
Healed pain will make my paean possible
Held emptiness will be My space to fill
And you will be yourself, and Mine, Mine still.