sanctus


by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer

my weakened head

suspended

neck low lolling

difficult

to swallow look around

or think

thoughts numbed as by a cult

an evil

an assault

or muscles deadened

still Your will

I wait and listen

wondering

should I

choke down a pill

they work much less

and when my mind

is tangling with dread

a visit

prone

in sanctuary

gets my fagged cells fed

Beloved, is this a test

or

once again

is something wrong

and can the medicine to fix it

work

or just prolong

is patient waiting

huddled in Your arms

mind focused

breathe

and inhale Your relaxing breath

while terrors round me seethe

let crimson force

defend Your poor bride's

quailing heart

at sea

in crashing waves

until You let back

cool tranguility

and Your hands

stroke and succor

I may not feel but I know

that in them rest

my panting breast

as surely as I grow

and venture forth

still in Your arms

with trepidatious step

I do Your work

a joyous perk

cured in Your strength I've leapt

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