by: Shirley Satterfield
I stand helpless
In the shadow of my shadow self,
Oh, Lord.
Save me to the quick of me,
And make me resilient in the storm
Like a hardy dandelion,
Its lion-head peeking gingerly through the ground
Not afraid of Satan’s voice,
That sky-thundering scary sound.
Give me strength, Oh Lord,
Let common flowers stick around.