The Stand
I can picture you sometimes,
Sword raised high above your head,
Eager to elect archenemy
Whatever dared to get in your way.
And I fought beside you
As long as I could,
Though I knew I'd never agreed to stay,
And my conscription in your heart
Would be up someday.
I can hear your voice sometimes,
Dancing to its own sweet sound;
Jesus on the high school steps
Playing god to an atheist crowd.
And I hid in your spotlight
As long as I could
From a world zealous to wrest me away,
Though I knew your mind
Couldn't turn water into wine every day.
But I can't feel you anymore,
For my hand clung to yours so long
That I let my own slip away.
And here I stand alone today.
©1999 Elizabeth Hebert
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