A collective poem, in which I took my favorite lines of my own religious poetry and jammed them all together.
The nape of my neck is filled with shattered thoughts.
It is winter, and during this time, my lungs are bound
by delicate ribbons of asthma. I see a hawk in the sky,
circling our favorite meetingplace. Gentle wisps of yellow
light unfold. On broken wings, I yearn to follow You,
but flesh holds back; this is the part where I bemoan
my state, where I make excuses about how weak I am.
I tremble to find here that my only motivation for hope
is the desire to one day be only half as depraved
a creature as I now am. I see myself as a saint who looks
quite a lot like a sinner, and I cry bless me now, o Lord,
lest I seek solace in another empty well or a still-full grave,
for I know I am every bit as human as the worst of us.
O depraved creature that I am! who will redeem me
from this mind, this body, this wicked soul of unknowing?
Most of all, I want to know if my Love for You is true, and if
my own heart is capable of kissing Your cheek or mocking
You or plunging nails into Your hands. Bend me like a river,
still stretching across these wastelands. Stir these brittle
bones to life; Breathe Your soul into my innermost being,
which You fashioned with knitting needles made of Heaven's
dew. Scatter me like foam upon an ocean until all the tiny
pieces of me collect in one offering. Mercy, Father, Mercy.
Out of the recess of my mind, the monitor beeps, and I
lift my head to discover that she has not yet flatlined.