A Poem for the New Year

The frailty of any moment
Is hard to understand
So bound, we breathe, we walk, we speak
From the power of our hand
That is at best a shell
Housing the vapor of this strife
‘Til Jesus calls us – “Children”
Not a moment more to life
Yet in all the mix and mash of common
His hope is steady still
Without a clarity of common’s end
‘Cept death the common’s fill
In the frailty of that moment
Stands His offering of hope
For in Him and Him alone
Our escape from frailty’s scope