In the shadows of Jabbok's Ford, where moonlight softly poured, Jacob, burdened, a wrestling with the Lord. Alone, he grappled in the night, fear's darkness gripped him tight, Wrestling not with divine might but with shadows, his inner plight. God, in wisdom, touched his hip, a symbolic, soulful clip, Yet Jacob clung, refused to slip, through pain and doubt, his grip. “I won't release until I'm ..
