I
scrape my skin
Until
it bleeds,
I
want no sin
Defiling
me.
No
matter how
I
scrub the stain,
The
shameful, wicked
Mark
remains.
I
cry aloud
For
pain and fear,
Broken
flesh stings
From
falling tears.
I blink
my eyes,
Surprised
to see
A
light slowly
Approaching
me.
I
raise myself
To
bended knee,
And
Christ descends
There
next to me.
He
takes my hands,
Embraces
me,
His gentle
eyes
Weep
openly.
He
looks upon
My tear-stained
face,
My
troubled heart,
My
fall from grace.
Tender
and soft,
He
washes me,
He
mends my wounds,
And
succors me.
Photo Credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/16210667@N02/8681651088/">CJS*64</a> Flickr via <a href="http://compfight.com">Compfight</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>
Comments
Post a Comment