God's Grace, Sweet Embrace
JUN 04, 2025
The irony of having fearful eyes toward a peacemaker,
those who bring strong foundations, to that which crumbles
like weak knees and sore throats at the truth.
Those who buy protective dogs to defend their crippling bodies,
their empire of hedonic crucifixions and maladaptive scrutiny;
may they all be judged in the eyes of mercy, that of God.
They do not see my anger or my pain, they do not see that my knees
are sore too, they do not see the sweat that drips down my back
because I cannot afford the luxury of cool air
nor do they see my changelings or the words
that harbor the message they seek,
they do not know I am a bringer of peace.
All they know is that I wear black and that my tears hide
behind the same shadow, as I die to myself
and morn what I have lost.
—
Candle wax drips down
in place of tears
that longing sound
no longer in my heart
and I am held together by my skin
or by God’s grace
those sweet kisses;
maybe it is both
because my heart grows stronger
and my body becomes healed.
I no longer worry;
faith is my secret.
100 witches have died in my place
and I have died a thousand times
to give thanks unto their face
I die over and over, to myself
and I wear this darkness to mourn thyself.
I die for God’s grace
and I live to celebrate
this sweet embrace.
