Apart from You,
I feed on pretzel goldfish
and teeth-tearing a Twix wrapper open,
so I can once upon a time get my fix.
Though, I am sure this is the third
or fourth time I’ve craved this sugary
sickness. All these dead calories, somehow
my soul speaks: God knows you are hiding.
Why don’t you confess?
Confess I can’t live on bread alone.
Confess I’d like to fall in love with You
again, again, again, again, again,
again, again. Seven times over these
miliseconds, seconds, hours, days
I begin drifting away to doubting waves
heaving salt upon my frame. Shame
settling a bitter mourning dew
on these shriveled lips.
Confess if You have hemmed me behind,
before, Why do You seem faraway, Yahweh?
On Your shoulders, I wish to sit,
a daughter held in her Father’s strength.
Her portion. Her Elohim, promising,
If you think I’d leave you behind, forsake,
forget, or leave you, I can not. I do not
break My promise to father
the fatherless, warrior child.
Confess I’ve casted many a stone
cold word: failure, Crippled. Idiot.
Slow. Forgetting I am seen good.
Drawn in lovingkindness,
Voice sweet, face lovely
to You alone, Jesus.
Wake me, dear friend.
Take this rotting apple from my hands,
begging my death, begging to cover me
in fig leaves as Adam & Eve fearful
Your clear view.