I grew up singing – or playing
accompaniment to – the old hymn
“Standing on the Promises.”
Youthful, I believed I stood there,
secure in the faith, in the promises,
in belief. Knocked down by life,
despairing grabbing hold again
of the childish faith I’d known,
I found promises spelled out,
offer made, prediction of finding them
halfway along the path. One day, I trust,
I’ll live them, stand staunchly entrenched
in new happiness, freedom, accepting my past.
I’ll bask in peace, serene, self-seeking
a distant memory. Yes, one day I’ll
take my stand there, but for now, I’ll not claim
to stand on them, only to cling to them.