Temptation slips around my feet, a tide

that rises — ankles, knees — and tugs and crawls

away. The sand deceives, seems firm, but slides

and sucks my feet beneath the muck — I fall.

Temptation crashes like a tempest wave

against my feeble work to rise, and down

with giddy rage it slams me. Hope to save

myself is lost. I fear that I will drown.

But Jesus, like a seaside cliff, resists

the current’s tug and drift. And Satan’s best

temptation wave can only break and hiss

against the rock that weathers every test.

I’m washed against this cliff, and climb to stand

on ground that’s strong and safe — not sinking sand.

Zachary Sigmon