A walk “through the valley of the shadow of death” has poetic beauty
that does not resonate with my soul
and I resent being here.
I resist the chasm that is this heartache,
I can only assume that the Shepherd’s staff supports me
because I haven’t fallen face-first
into any pools of still water.
If there are glorious green pastures in the valley
I cannot see them. Death has blinded me.
“Stay with me here, sit with me”
is the only prayer I can muster.
Let the house of the LORD be here
as long as the darkest valley
is my dwelling.
May a stream of oil make a path to find me
until I am healed and renewed
for the journey again.