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
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