The Cleft Poem by cheryl davis miller

I have a place to run to.
A place where I can hide.
A place of peace and safety.
Where comfort is supplied.

I've been here for a while.
My roots are planted deep.
Because the Rock surrounds me,
I escape the winds harsh sweep.

But I just must be honest.
At times I feel hemmed in.
I wonder where I might be.
Had I not been where I've been.

I gaze from my mountain's crevice,
Upon, the plains below.
To view the forest's majesty.
To see how vast they grow.

Then I see storms on the horizon.
Quickly sweeping down.
The forest lies with-in it's path.
There's no safety to be found.

I watch in utter horror.
The twisted limbs and bough.
For they do not share my crevice.
My Rock they do not know.

All complaints are swept away.
I am thankful once again.
Planted here in the Cleft of the Rock.
Sheltered; safe in Him.

c.d.m. 8-21-10