THE LAST REDOUBT

The Last Redoubt

My truth, my life, did I not

choose thee my rock to be?

My eyes awash, o’erturn my grief

unto thy joy awaiting me.

My rock, my stronghold,

the last redoubt and first

upon which I poised my soul

That never frighted since.

Lit within my heart

the sage’s word of wisdom,

proved now anew

in never-ending balm,

embroidering my brow,

so prone to furrow

by sadness’ plough.

For you hold and guide it

so that only faith may enter

to tinge my grief

with its sweet believing:

That you are there

and hold my heart

Close to yours,

each beat of mine

resounding to the thunder

 of your love,

inarticulate but reverberating,

 lest I hear and die,

 for want of ear to hear it all,

 too loud and stay alive:

 “I am here, your last redoubt and first.

Will that suffice?”