The Bowman

The Bowman
By Natalie Williams
(age 13)

 Here I stand, sharp and ready,

The target just in sight.

The Bowman pulls me from the quiver.

He looks at me; I sigh.

The Bowman inspects me, every inch,

He wants me to be pure.

He looks at me, into my eyes.

Softly I hear His voice: “I’m with you; do not flinch.”

I see the target clearer now,

The bull’s-eye in the middle.

I’m seeing now His plan for me,

I see it’s not a riddle.

But why am I going backwards now,

Away from my clear goal?

Why can I not see it now?

How did I sink so low?

Condemnation fills my heart,

I’m broken down, I start to cry:

“You promised me we would not part!

I want to rise; I want to fly!”

I hear a voice, soft and clear:

“You think I do not love you;

You think I left you here;

But I made you a promise: I will see you through.’’

“You see,” the voice continues,

“I have a perfect plan;

For Me to shoot I must first draw;

I hold you in My hand.”

The Bowman has repaired me,

He’s smoothed my splintered shaft.

He’s shown me that He loves me,

I’m no longer split in half.

He draws me back the final inch,

Yet now I see His true plan:

To love Him with all my heart and soul,

To trust His sovereign hand.

Onward now, I’m soaring high,

Can it be as real as it seems?

The Bowman shot me smooth and straight,

I know it’s not a dream.