The Carpenter

By Andrew R. Duckworth

I was walking a lonesome path
While bathing in the aftermath
Of a swollen gray day,
Making way in my soul for wrath.

And who should find me in my sour
But the Carpenter at an odd hour
And the darkness backed away,
Fled from some mysterious power.

It was as if they could not stand
Against the palm of His hand,
Powerless they were to stay
Even in the shelter of broken land.

And in that moment, I was healed.
In His name I will appeal.