THE STRONGHOLD

This peom is inspired by Psalm 84, and two fortresses. The Croatian fortress of Klis that held out against invasion for 25 years and Edinburgh Castle which, despite over 25 attempts was never taken in battle. A poem of lament, longing and ultimate trust in God’s unfailing love.



O my oppressed and roughened soul, bruised by assaults

Why besieged, assailed, overrun, vanquished?

By a rough brutal lord, whose heart drips malice

Whose accusing tongue, lashes with vicious verdicts

Fomenting a fetid cage of poisonous chains



O my bruised breaking smouldering wick of a soul

Tossed and tormented by heavy seas of circumstance

Deafened by the tumultuous din of work and worry

Besieged by thoughts too dark and intrusive to number

Look up, crane your neck and see!



The citadel, high flinty dominance stamped permanently

Fiery volcanic rage hardened into icy igneous impenetrability

Your massive buttresses rising like sequoia above the plain

Not sweat built but eternal, elemental, rising high

The word became rock, spoken out of dark primordial chaos



Mountain fortress, impassive, solid, immovable

Not for you the prospect of assault, war, siege engines

The thickness of your seamless walls cannot be measured

Unbreachable, unscalable, your towering presence

Renders assault unthinkable, futile, invasion impossible

Without arrogance or defiance, you simply stand

Lofty stronghold, unassailable, inaccessible by force

Imperturbable refuge, watching all in calm confidence



Home to a good Lord, a kind king who bids me enter

Even a sparrow with bruised wing can find a home and

Build a nest near your altars. Blessed are they who dwell

In your stronghold, breathing your cooling, unhurried peace

Drinking deeply and thirstily from your wells of refreshing water



Blessed are they whose hearts become your Highway

Who discover their frail aging bodies house your lofty citadel

Who entering your temple fortress learn to

Sojourn, abide, dwell out of that refuge safe and secure

Slowing, savouring the goodness of each moment that you gift

Bringing springs and pools to parched dry earth.





Contributor: Gary Underhill