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Curriculum Vitae

Some watching my ease
Of execution of the self
The latent anxiety unteased
Writes me off in simplicity.
Some denuding me of honor's wealth
Wait in turmoil 
For a scab to fall and unveil its pus
And if I do not flinch for pain
Writes coward beside my name
Some deck out in borrowed jewels
Could not stop me looking at the stars
They heard only my polite conversation
Saw my faith
And did not understand the transformation of desire
The restructured purpose of the heart
The difference in whose I am
They frightened ran
Frantic to recompose themselves in fear
They judged me like the world again
But O how deep the flow
Of divine grace
That such may come and find nothing in me.

I am a man of firm convictions
I know the way all things should go
Before they go
I watch the frightened blunder
Inventing old salvation in new fora
I do not yield to that
Peace is a vision of the broken self
The spontaneous abolition of lies
Do not give the heart too much grandeur
It blinds the vision to the soul
Reeks havoc of self interpretation
For before the strong delusion
Comes the lie
Do you not remember how impolite you were
How disrespectful
How nasty the tone of argument and action
And how he opened not his mouth
Waiting for you to come to confession
That gives a man a sense of justice
To execute judgment without compassion
And yet, great Christ, you wait for repentance.

You have your Barabbas
And yet you have no peace
How can right disturb the heart at rest
We weave a tangled mess
In a world of pride, but patience is a a door
I left it open
Without pain
For what you have become, what you manifest
I would not cry, could not cry for cess
Barabbas means himself well
But his history is a figment, his tale a lie
And then again
What power could sin have over sin
Poor, weak, wretched, vain
How your pretext falls like dusk
How bewildering the edge of night

If you see me again
Please note that I am the same
And through my door
Comes those who have forgotten pain
For I built it so
To admit the naked form alone
Be mortified at my door
You cannot come until you are purged
It is your life
I have neither haste nor urge
Only you can make right
I can only hold the light
For under my cosy exterior of ease
You will find again
Just what you see outside.

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