Adrift no more, anchored to the cross, she was set off shores

Adrift she is not, for He touched that one very sweet spot. She grabbed for it alas. Sweet as a honey bee and its nectar 

He gave her a hand up from under the cloud covered all consuming of “I”. 

Down the river she will never float again in fear of pulsating rapid’s

She is anchored in the cross for there her sobriety won 

Adrift no more He took her very broken wings, and allowed them to soar singing with release SOAR

She is no longer choking upon her breath, He breathed a new life of breath in her. Death only at His hour, all power to Him

She is no longer in wander with lack of directional purpose, she is in the pursuit of God’s compass 

She has hope for her youth has been restored when He scooped her up from her drown in her own self pity

Iniquity is not swallowed away with a gulp and an angry middle finger, in his His throne room it lingers, it sits with hope at His right hand there she can be found safe and of sound mind. 

Adrift that is no longer a part of her life unless it is for recreational sport, for God took a spear in pierce of her heart

Adrift no more, He has wiped her slate clean of her fixaction. Tied down, anchored, clinging…Stable now that is not a word she thought would again be in her vocabulary 

For God is her is her lifeline and stability she found, adrift what is that?  Adrift what is that…she has been found! 

Word Prompt: Adrift

11 thoughts on “Adrift no more, anchored to the cross, she was set off shores

    1. Why I do declare a thank you is do here, kind fellow writer. I am going to sit outside on our very gorgeous sunny Pacific Northwest Day with my phone in my hand, and work on Catapulting myself into this here word prompt we all have been given. When you wrote yours I was reminded of my childhood and my prized sling shot. I was a girl that ran with all the boys in the neighborhood. Could not be without a sling shot. Sling shots and rocks, that was trouble just waiting to happen πŸ˜„.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I am poet, wanna be rapper. Beat boxin’ with every step, you bet. No really just a dorky white girl whom in music, and lyric I lather. For this girl can sing. All my Latina friends in Orlando, were like mama you a hot mess, but girl you got it. Lol. This is all for blame of the sun. A little vitamin D being out brings out the goof ball in me. Anyways thanks for the catapult down memories less traveled. It was fun, now the sun awaits. Dude seriously it is 65 and feels like 70. Slight breeze. My Irish skin says take it in. 🌞✌. Peace out Lisa….


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