God's Grace

A small fat woman prone at the feet of the world Waiting for another footprint on her forehead Flat, a deflated worn out balloon A shell tossed aside because she’s broken So many scraps and things piled into a trash bag Abandoned in a landfill Pour out the rain That woman floats away on a river of tears Her own and everyone else’s He hears our prayers She is a twig of a tree snapped off in the storm He lifts her up in waves of cleansing water Dunking her down, drowning her sorrows Back up for inhalation and exhalation, His breath, inspiration His hands mend her wounds Quilts her again into the fabric of His world He sets her feet on gold and no one treads on her anymore