(untitled poem that i thought about saving for lent)

and forty days would cease the drowning gates of heaven
pouring out the weight of glory on the grass and dust,
to cover the earth like the seas of forgetfulness,
to remember us sinners no more
(have mercy on us, he said, have mercy)

for thorns and thistles we have borne
and choked the garden You had planted,
thorns grown from the serpent’s seed,
weeds to spring up from the stony ground
the water of Your word won’t penetrate,
and we’re left wandering the desert of our own decrees,
blind to the blinding light of truth that leads us through the night
(miserere nobis, Domine, miserere nobis)

and we have stumbled like the blind following the blind
and listened for Your whisper in a hurricane but
You were not there
(what are we doing here, You ask,
and we confess an ignorant zeal),
so You blow against our tidings of things you already knew,
burn like wrath and a lover’s passion
to light up the deep down things in us
(have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy)

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