blue waves crashing,
white foam;
I stand at the edge of land’s end
the sound of thunder
in the waves,
the undulating power of God.
a small piece of driftwood
by my hand guided,
writes “fear” and “hatred”
in the sand
where soon the waves,
God’s intense and persistent movement,
draw them into a crushing riptide,
dragging them out to sea;
obliterating them in the depths of the ocean’s abyss,
and they no longer hold sway
over my life
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