idolly

taking my fears,
i jury rig them
into a juggernaut
of false security
to protect me
but you would
sweep it away,
that I might dangle my feet
in trust's river;

all my anger
is poured into the mold
of my heart,
where it cools and hardens,
unbreakable in the face
of your compassion
for those i know would use me,
but you would soften it
shaping it into grace
we can all feed on;

craftily,
promoters of platitudes
and sellers of certainties
become the icons
on which my life focuses,
but you would turn
my stiff neck
so i can see Jesus
walking sin's side streets
looking for me;

with such a
bull market on idols,
what shall i do?

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman