Climbing Vine


Oh to be a climbing vine . . .

Reaching ever higher.

Not content just lying here . . .

Amidst this muck and mire!

Oh to cling unto the Rock . . .

That Rock, that has no bounds,

Grasping reaching more each day . . .

His beauty to be found!

If by chance, I be torn down . . .

Not for long to stay,

But, reaching forth, to climb again . . .

On the morrow of the day!

Should I be trampled, left for dead . . .

With no hope to be found

May God breathe, life anew, once more . . .

And lift me from the ground.

Securing me, so firm to him . . .

Attached, by His own hold

Watching fruit, from deep with-in . . .

My climbing vine unfold!

Peggy Jeanine Woody


This poem was written 25 days before my son lost both feet in a car accident. He lived 18 years after that, dealing with phantom pain daily!


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Christian Poets and Writers discuss ways to build up the church Body of Christ, inspire, strengthen faith, and improve writing in all genres. May God guide our prayers and words of forgiveness, love, and unity in Jesus' Name.

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