I doubt I can sit
at your table with
A straight face because
Jesus, the leaves before me
& so does their love and I want
to cry. How do you look in my eyes
And see the light you give me,
burning to make this right? My
inside screams the groans you keep.
The ones incoherent. I am a sinner
who is learning quiet submission to
**fmf: doubt. This is the second poem I’ve written this week that’s made me well inside. I haven’t written poetry like this in a long time. Also, I thought today was Thursday..