Aaron Combs- A Poem

The War of Grace

I pray against this sound.

The sound of tears, the sound of pain,
like trees that fall in the desert.
I pray against this sound.
The sound of destruction, and plague
like insects clawing on your soul.
I pray against this sound.
The screaming nails, the unforgiveness.
I pray against this sound.

I pray for grace.

I put my hope in the rivers of love.
I put my trust in the peace of understanding,
   that He is sovereign.
It is enough to know He is there.
And the silence isn't so loud anymore.

When I'm broken, feeling untied, tethered,
like a ball under the rye,
as lips begin to close, and hope begins to lean,
I look to the hills

      and know

                     that He is still there.