how strange, to stand at the very edge of nothingness
and return, shaking: blood marking my knees

how terrible, to watch deadly wind make deadened flesh
(once tenderly loved)
and return, broken and drowning and staggering
swallowed by so much greater

then still small voice:

Even though you walk through the darkest valley, you will fear no evil, for I am with you; My rod and my staff, they comfort you.

Even though you walk through the darkest valley, you will fear no evil, for I am with you, Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

how vehement, to shout against darkness with Existential Mightiness behind me
and return –
my voice grows and it grows and it grows

how beautiful, to lean against His staff when nothing breaks my fall
and return –
held and healed and still small
but shielded: I stand.

I return.