by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
my mind
such thoughts
slip in a bog
become where they are going
at one with peat
dead plants
and eaten
by bugs morbid showing
thus sinking
rotting
corpulent
with humus
foul-smelling
past-ripe
ideas
lost to vain pleas
the living truth not telling
as sink
such souls
resisting pull
Your hands beseaching, yearning
though crimson rinses off the dirt
they bury themselves
learning
love from the fertile rubbish heap
of suffering
acceptance
I see
through many layers of soil
the freedom from reluctance
I think of reaching back for You
and suddenly
unburied
flecks falling from my newfound feet
I flutter upwards hurried
as back in Your embrace I am
Beloved
in Your heart growing
as always was
in cleansing flame
the answer is in knowing
the shaft that pierces earth and scrub
and lets the love around me
is Yours
it
opened up Your side
to soak
the pride that bound me
now I fly free
though my flesh be
imprisoned evil's foment
yet I eternity will see
in Your eyes each new moment
