It is a peculiar
thing reading a
poem—how at first
we stare at it like
a clock—the symmetry
of the lines, how
well they work.

But then, oh and
then when we unscrew
the gold and glass filament of
its face—how little
we knew before, how
little we know then—
ignorance begins.

The stanzas of the
mountains—I cannot
read them they are
too smart for me, too
high.

The grass is green and
The sky is blue, but I
still live in the wreck
of what once was—in
bones and pastures.

The wind doesn’t
whisper my name, it
never has—why should
it bow to me when in one
burst it can knock me over?

You fell because of
me, were ruined because
of me and still I beat
you like the abusive
overseer.

You are not
animate like me, you
do not stare at your
rhyme and palm
trees—trying to
comprehend the why
buried under the
incorporeal X.

I am sorry, but
we will be born
again and then—
like two lovers that
never quarreled—we
can look at Him
and say, “How great
He is!”

You dwell in
sorrow, and so
I cannot understand
You, because
I want to
live in mansions
and laugh,
laugh because
I am free from
trying.

But You died
and You bled—
what are my
frustrations
in comparison
to yours on
that day?

How can
I know four-
pointed shame—
when did any
of my failures
turn into glory?

I cannot
see how my
sad face can
make my
heart glad,
but I do
know that in
sadness I
have chosen
my unhappiness
over ignorance.

Yet, it is
good to
know that
my life is
not supposed
to be a
mansion filled
with laughter, for
that is my death.

Could you
take me to
the dark
sadness—to
its eaves and
heavy cloaks.

What is it
here, there
that I do not
see, that I
don’t under-
stand.

You made
a perfect
man divined
to fall, and
it is beautiful
and sad.

Do I
know sorrow
enough to
know You?

I can still
see the tinge
of grey in
the blue sky
above my head.

Such is the
nature of
this temporal
beauty--lovely,
but incomplete.

The sun still
shines on us
from so far
away, and the
leaves--it
pleases them
to be green--and
I, am I good
or beautiful?

I do not
know, but
I suppose
so.

God is kind
to make it
so I (or you)
cannot walk
in paradise, but
only imagine it.

How much
darker the
grey would
seem to us
then.

Today I am
the quiet
student who
will not lift
her hand because
I was irresponsible
and did not
have time
to write because
I waited
until the last
hour to turn
in the essay
that I had six
weeks to write
but did not
want to because
it was easier
to sit and
do nothing
and be
nothing.

We try to
find you in
our own
way--see
you in the
demands we
make and
the sin
of our hearts--
aspiring Greek
gods.

But, you
are not there
and so we
cannot crown
ourselves
because we
do not look
like you.

So we
throw down
the throne
and make a
new one out
of sores and
gold, but
we find our-
selves allergic
to it.

I
You are
beautiful--
not because
of your words
or eye shadow,
not because
of the way
you cover or
show yourself
off.

You, my
dear, are
beautiful
because God
made you--
and no matter
how much you
sin or *****
up or what you
love, you can
not stamp out the
seal of the
Creator on
your soul.

Don't destroy
yourself to
be abandoned
in the powerlessness
of chaos--existence
is from God
and we cannot
extinguish it
no matter how
hard we try
so why don't you
take ownership
of the love He's
been offering
you all these
years?

    II
What is so
scary about
Your love--that
we can be
consumed by
it only to
find that in
it is as river
you cannot
drown in
but only grow
in and wonder
how you ever
survived before?

You love us.

You love us,
what more
profound thing
could we ask
for--that the
Lord lavishes
His affection
on dust that
can do nothing
for Him but
everything with
Him.

    III
If you are
ever worried
about how
you treat people--
about the time
you yelled at
your sister
or mother--
you are not
vicious.

If you have
ever loved
someone selflessly,
but with a
few mistakes--
you are not
evil.

If you have
ever seen the
unkindness and
selfishness rooted
in your heart
and been worried,
you are not
hopeless.

Jesus came
and separated
our oil sins to
make our souls
pure so the
Holy Spirit
would not
choke in us.

    IV
He lightens
our darkness
and saves us
from Satan's
hands that
crawl up out of
our hearts to
choke us with
lust, greed, and
other wants that
sting our throats
and make us
drink the black
liquor again
because it looks
so good.

He make us
beautiful
again.

He makes you
beautiful again.

    V**
We are polaroids
thrown in acid
that our own
minds created
and stewed
willfully--

But God,
He rips us out
of our own
destruction and
restores us to
the 3D master-
pieces we are
designed to
be.

All because
He loves,
All because
He loves us.

Amen.