· poetry

My Father clothes me,

in blankets of stars fastened by his hands; He carries me

over seas torn apart by churning waves and tossing driftwood,

He sustains me,

holds me,


in His arms; a fortress against the indignant winds and raging tide.

My Father; His calm washes over me, a peaceful bliss,

saturating the air with His Spirit,

even the waves sigh.

Be still.

Silence your wandering mind, quiet

your thundering ears and listen, to His love

as it pierces the stillness.

Our Father is everywhere.

By Riah Raine

All Posts

Almost done…

We just sent you an email. Please click the link in the email to confirm your subscription!

OKSubscriptions powered by Strikingly