And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:23)

Wandering restlessly,
black sheep-night anxiously gnawing
edges of my sins, my frailty —
wait, didn’t you hear?
This body signed over to fleshly dying.

daily, we are faulting,
buying into temporary satisfaction-
Addicts always in the market for
a ‘quick fix’.
‘momentary relief.’
every voice bleeding out a scar
with a cunning scheme found within
nearly stitched band aids too sore
from restraining sickly poison: “YOLO!”

How could we refrain–
eyes bulging in delight
of ‘to die for’ spoonfuls
layered between batter
& drizzles tasting sinful,
buds pledging anguish with
out regard.

Sugared temptations,
we are bought, we are sold,
giving up ourselves:
Silver & gold,
skin & bone,

captives, still, we stand oblivious,
enslaved by falsehoods only the Enemy
cynically supplies.

Beyond the surface,
we wait, aging, aching
pleading to go home-

where, Father, we are
fully known.


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