The Color of Trust

9-22-12

Comes the dark wind and unsettling storm–

Still.

Rises the smoky swell of doubt, and as sparks rise, so troubles rise–

Still, breathe.

Roars the purple thunder, quaking my stable ground, my naive expectation–

Still, breathe, pray.

Help in the trouble, adequacy in the brittle moment–

Still, breathe, pray, rest.

God is.