Strength From The Lord Poem by Obi Yindal

My strength comes from the Lord—
An old fashioned cliché,
Long abandoned by myriad fallen stars,
Flies, and insects;
They have evolutionized,
Transcended,
Pragmatized,
And apologized,
With sneers,
shame,
loathing,
mocking,
With fangs,
fists,
teeth,
And biting
Upon the edifice,
the sacrifice,
the Lamb—Christ.

But I march toward his land,
And see Him by faith,
To hear the Lord of Zion,
In Him I am safe.

Why?
What has He done me these years,
That I should from my heart empty His room
And seal the cliché instead in a tomb?

For what?
A pot of stew?
Rutting bread?
Lustrous cisterns?
Stories upon stories of faded gold?
Clanking silvers and coppers too?

O, may I never put Him in it!
What they call cliché
Renews and gushes like fountains in my soul.
Unable to contain it,
Though it annoys them, I will shout away,
In most reverent and saintly manner to say,
“My strength comes from the Lord! ”