Why is it so hard to rest
in my utter powerlessness,
why so easy to prick
against the goads?

It seems like every day
I need a new revelation
“Who art Thou Lord?”

Every day
A new bout with blindness.

Every day
Ananias visiting
“The Lord has sent me.”

Every day,
resting
as a chosen instrument
in the hands of God
let Him
make melody.

18 April 1994