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Poem

I twisted myself into a strange posture
-thinking it was comfortable-
and my heart struggled to reach past the pinch.

Gradually -like boiling frogs-
pressured increased
as the weight of foolish distraction
settled comfortably upon me.

But ugliness, like beauty,
though often hidden,
will always eventually burst forth from its soil.
What a vile, wicked bloom unfolds -
alerting us to the true state of affairs.

Then - like a prodigal fool
who's already done too much damage
I beg for your grace
Hoping -at least for a moment-
I can become something new
and never forget this ...
But I hesitate to promise.
I have failed such promises before.

And ... yet ... again ... you pluck the weight off of me,
gently unfold me from my twisted position,
and I feel a roaring surge in my arteries
as blood -and grace- return life to my body once again.

Please God ... Please!
Help me remember this time...


10 March 2025
written 6:03-6:14 PM
concept thought of after confession around noon

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