‘Come, move.’
He calls my name.
From hilltop to plain,
to mountain.
His voice echoes,
down the paths
through the chambers
of my heart.
Levelling the hills,
filling the valleys,
causing the streams to
burst their banks,
at my name,
carried across each chasm,
borne as molten liquid
upon his lips.
‘Come, move.’
Part entreaty,
part command.
Promise of eternal blessing.
If I would but transport myself
from this place,
to his,
like a leap of earnest faith.
Not with aimless drifting,
but rather
as two lovers might rush forward
into an embrace.
‘Come, move.
It’s your turn.’
Runners might be weary,
but those who leap
and trust the leveller,
to smooth each rising mound
and raise every
vale,
find the path
lit and shot with light,
as a late sun’s flaming glory,
might traverse the winter hills.
‘Come, move.’
There is no question,
of not departing,
and no reason for remaining,
no standing still,
when such a voice as His,
calls us, on the wind,
by name.
Ana Lisa de Jong
June 2018
‘Make a road for the Lord through the wilderness;
make him a straight, smooth road through the desert.
Fill the valleys; level the hills; straighten out the crooked paths
and smooth off the rough spots in the road. The glory of
the Lord will be seen by all mankind together’.
Isaiah 40:3-5
‘Even the youths will be exhausted,
and the young men will all give up. But they that wait upon the Lord
shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint’.
Isaiah 40:30-31
‘When the poor and needy seek water…. I will open up rivers for them on
high plateaus! I will give them fountains of water in the valleys! In the
deserts will be pools of water, and rivers fed by springs shall flow across
the dry parched ground.’
Isaiah 41:17-18
Photo: Tutukaka, New Zealand
Living Tree Poetry 