Doubt: poem by R.L. Appleby

image by rkkleung, on Pixabay, slightly modified

Doubt

On the brink of a chasm

Teetering on its scabrous edge

A convict awaits his doom, seeking

Salvation he does not merit

As he stands condemned.

A vine, a lifeline, stretches forth

Offering freedom from death or worse,

But the dangling vassal

Doubts its strength, ignores,

Withdraws hand to breast.

Dizzy with shapes and

Twisting ground, drunk with self

Lets wings pass by untouched

Doubting their loft, uncertain.

Desperate, he sheds his skin

To become light, ethereal,

His own craft with narrow fork

And narcissistic fervor

While a staff is offered

To give balance to uneven scales.

He rejects the life gift

Doubting the strength of its chain.

The overture of hope to his

Hopeless posture, a gift given

Time and time again yet ignored

Is a bounty from the

King of the Mountain,

The King of all mountains,

Noble holder of the chasm over

Which the unwise hangs.

The King is coming,

Ground becomes hallowed

With His step, His presence

Felt where terror once filled.

Scales of eyes removed,

The lost child sees clearly

And doubts no more.

Why does He come for

Such a soul as this?

This mighty King,

Who, in concerns of love, comes Himself.

Himself to save His opus.

Himself when doubt calls a tune

It can no longer play.

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R.L. Appleby is a pastor and writer from South Texas where he lives with his wife, Robin.

His work has been published in Agape Review, Verse-Virtual Literary Magazine, and The Clayjar Review.

March 2024 issue