The Ruins

I was an ancient ruin
Allowed to molder and fall apart.
I was lashed by the weather
And left in the dark.
I was slowly covered in debris
Until my beauty was buried from sight.
I became tangled and overgrown
To the point of being a thing of fright.
God is the great restorer
Who is braving the jungle of evil weeds.
He's hacking way at the bindings
That were strangling my hopes and needs.
The clutter is being hauled away,
The dirt cleaned from each crack.
He is slowly shining his light
By beating the darkness back.
I feel as if I am gleaming;
His glory is breaking through.
He has washed and cleaned me
And made me whole and new.

Lisa Rodenberry
September 2009