I’m feeling clipped and left in the pile,
only hoping to be whittled,
or used for some sort of decorative
mantle piece that will gather dust
and spiders,
but suddenly I’m lifted high,
and I can feel Your face like the sun.
The root in me is the root in You,
and all is deepened and brought water
and learns to rest, then grow,
an undulating dance of branch
against vine.
And all I ever thought I was is merely kindling
for the fire,
but all I ever am in You is everything from beginning
to end.
© 2023 by Ericka Clay
A FEW MORE THINGS…
Get your free books.
bit.ly/mybooksforfree
Get in touch.
erickaclay.com/contact
support@erickaclay.com
Ericka Clay 