Worthless memories, how they linger!
The memory pounds my head with merciless aches
The memory makes my smile appear worn and faded
The memory makes my head hang low like I was afraid I might see judgment written in the clouds
The memory makes eye contact with the pictures of Christ and His prophet a distressing experience
The memory makes dancing in church a clumsy affair
The memory makes my upraised hands weigh heavier than the pull exerted by gravity
The memory makes praying an awkward act
The memory makes my seated frame sag like a boneless mass of flesh
The memory makes the preacher’s sermon sharp like the edge of a surgeon’s knife
The memory makes being inside the church feel like a hostile courtroom
The memory makes my peace strained like a graveyard
The memory makes my gut go haywire prompting unending trips to the bathroom
The memory will make an excellent material for a horror movie
Like History, I can’t help repeating myself
Like the sun, I can’t help rising and falling
Like water under pressure, I can’t help letting off steam
Like an animal, I can’t help following my instincts
I can still see those rebellious steps that marched me along the way of a transgressor
I can still taste the hard to get rid off vileness lingering in my breath
I can still see the pained expression of regret that masked my face when the deeds were done
I can still see the weight of guilt that stooped my back like I had grown a hunch
I can still feel the disgust wash over me like I was a virgin whose long protected virtue had been defiled
I can still recall cold sweat breaking out on my body like rash on a baby
I can still hear the demonic laughter that echoed back to my mind as a jubilant demon was being congratulated with the words, “well done”
I see all these
As my accuser forces my eyes on every ugly detail
But I also see the atoning blood washing the slate clean
And writing the incredible word
“Pardoned”
Author's comment:
I hear the sun is faithful because it never fails to rise. It never fails to FALL either, so I guess it's really faithful anyway you look at it.That's my best picture of grace hanging there in the heavens.
"Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit." Psalm 32:1
The memory makes my smile appear worn and faded
The memory makes my head hang low like I was afraid I might see judgment written in the clouds
The memory makes eye contact with the pictures of Christ and His prophet a distressing experience
The memory makes dancing in church a clumsy affair
The memory makes my upraised hands weigh heavier than the pull exerted by gravity
The memory makes praying an awkward act
The memory makes my seated frame sag like a boneless mass of flesh
The memory makes the preacher’s sermon sharp like the edge of a surgeon’s knife
The memory makes being inside the church feel like a hostile courtroom
The memory makes my peace strained like a graveyard
The memory makes my gut go haywire prompting unending trips to the bathroom
The memory will make an excellent material for a horror movie
Like History, I can’t help repeating myself
Like the sun, I can’t help rising and falling
Like water under pressure, I can’t help letting off steam
Like an animal, I can’t help following my instincts
I can still see those rebellious steps that marched me along the way of a transgressor
I can still taste the hard to get rid off vileness lingering in my breath
I can still see the pained expression of regret that masked my face when the deeds were done
I can still see the weight of guilt that stooped my back like I had grown a hunch
I can still feel the disgust wash over me like I was a virgin whose long protected virtue had been defiled
I can still recall cold sweat breaking out on my body like rash on a baby
I can still hear the demonic laughter that echoed back to my mind as a jubilant demon was being congratulated with the words, “well done”
I see all these
As my accuser forces my eyes on every ugly detail
But I also see the atoning blood washing the slate clean
And writing the incredible word
“Pardoned”
Author's comment:
I hear the sun is faithful because it never fails to rise. It never fails to FALL either, so I guess it's really faithful anyway you look at it.That's my best picture of grace hanging there in the heavens.
"Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit." Psalm 32:1
posted by Vessel of Mercy at
4:54 PM
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