Nails & wood in Golgotha

There are days when I doubt your goodness.
Those sweet moments I steal for myself
to only realize they are cloying, my hands
tacky with blood and my lips slick with shame.
Why is it that I pierce everyone you love?
Don’t tell me, don’t tell me –
Don’t whisper to me how I was made.
Don’t whisper to me how you had agonized
for a thousand years on how to shape my beauty,
how you longed to call me Daughter.
I cried to you in desperate hours
when I was Guilt incarnate, believing you
to be Love. I found no peace those nights.
Unanswered prayers frame a mortuary
for earthly respite; each petition lays a new brick.

One thought on “Nails & wood in Golgotha

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: