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Poetry: Combat

by Linda Ann Nickerson

Created on: January 28, 2008

MY STAND

For decades, he has tried to bust
The joy inside my soul,
With accusations, broken trust
And eyes as black as coal.

With dark designs and deepest doubts,
This evil plotting ploy
Was aiming for a falling out,
To kill, steal and destroy.

And his intentions sinister
Did cause my soul to tire,
But truth makes me a minister
And calls me ever higher.

The One within is stronger still;
Tis He who keeps me whole.
There's none can sway or slay my will,
When He is in control.

"So get behind me; be forewarned,
If I may be so bold.
Although you've spit and scoffed and scorned,
I seek a greater goal."

With shield in hand, I take my stand;
The night begins to shake.
With just one Word, the Name is heard;
May there be no mistake!

The sneering one, he turns to run.
He cannot take me now.
For he has wholly come undone.
All I can say is, "Wow."

Perhaps he plans his next onslaught.
I hope to be prepared.
With victory begun, blood-bought,
I need not be ensnared.

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