The wind hurls snow and unearthly low howls at a thin wall charging me to stay under the protection of a comforter. Hallo whines forewarning, “He lies in wait near the village; from ambush he murders the innocent, watching in secret for his victim. He lies in wait like a lion in cover; he lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off with razor incisors.” (Psalm 10:8-9)
“What beast so cruel seeks the flesh of the poor and helpless? Why do the wicked lie in wait for the righteous, seeking their very lives?” The soul at peace has become a distant memory, merely swirling visions of a hot desert horizon. Sour eyes press the back of the skull, pools of dry pain. The brain’s heated swells beseeches the skull to break. An acid stomach violently relinquishes empty content. Strength poured out like a drink offering.
Last breath reaches for my Maker. My spirit brushed by His Spirit hears, “Your LORD will not leave him in power. I will not allow you to be condemned when brought to trial. Do not fret because of evil men. Like the grass, they will soon wither, like green plants, they will soon die away.” The Comfortor covers the anguished soul.
