day sixteen

You Are

He is the Warrior who picks me up
when I am weary in battle.
He puts me on the back of his horse,
He is strong and He is fierce.
I can't see His face,
but His hair is long, brown
and waves like the sea
and smells like the sun.

His shoulders are tan and strong.
He wears linen that's been washed in the river.
He carries on his back a quiver of arrows.
Each arrow is a hurt of mine that He has made his own,
that makes the drawing of the bow that much sweeter.

He is on the warpath.
He is doing damage.
He is My Protector.
His hand encircles my wrist,
He trains my hands for war.
My name is written on the palm of His hand.

He laughs at the enemy...
"He'll never have you," he tells me over his shoulder,
his face still hidden from me.
I believe Him.
I always have.
He is My Defender.
There is no one like Him.
I will do anything for Him.
I rest my head upon His shoulder and close my eyes.
He is my hiding place.