...I'll remember them no more...

-

How happy it is to be a son at the father's lap

I am envious of the Prodigal son 

He was bold to come as filthy as he was and did what I dread the most

To come just the way I am

I know the directions home too 

But today the orthodox ways don't make sense to me

I am so guilt ridden, ashamed and I reek of pungent blood that is on my hands

I don't know if I should read the Word

 Recite the Creed or confess to the priest



Funny because you know that guy who killed her parent's trust....I was among the ones who wanted her sentenced to doom

And truth be told, she was guilty as charged.

Lost her purity got pregnant with sin

I went through her case, listened to what the witnesses had to say

She was guilty Father

So my words wove the rope they almost used to hang her

Today, I regret my actions

I am the one at the gullows

Only thy Grace can save me


I killed many 

I ripped out someone's heart yesterday

I made love to the things  that are out to devour my soul

I'm scared, 

I now comprehend why you said though these garments are scarlet red

You'll wash them white as snow


Today my actions haunt me

I don't know how to come to you

Every time I reach your door, peep at the keyhole of the throne of mercies and grace

Your holiness is a great

With every step I make, I stain the floors of gold and sapphire with red

I wonder if the angels look and wonder

I'm dripping with filth 

I can't go past the door. I'm more than a mess



Wait, I am seated with Him at the heavenly places so...how did I even reach at the door

My place is still at that seat right?

Free will, yes free will 

I think I went to take a walk and my walk made me walk away from the throne of grace


So like a leper outside a city, with my stubbed toes andflies droning above, I think hard...

Should I walk into your temple

Or should I resign to my fate

I see the flames of red and sulphur

But it's not even the punishment that scares me

To be without You, I can't bear


I'm in tears 

I know you collect them and put them in a bottle

And memory says you will wipe them all away...

But I don't know how, should I walk up to you for you to wipe them away?

But I feel paralyzed

But to that 1, you came to it, and the 99 you left,

So father I am at the door

Shame has numbed my feet 

I can't walk up to you

Please help me, 



My wounds are raw, see they still bleed

Wounds that I inflicted on myself because I believed in self

You know, Self said it can still be victorious on its own

So it dissed Surrender

And ditched the armor


You see this deep cut on my head 

I got it yesterday and the one who assaults comes everyday and digs the wound before it heals

He pours salt in it ; thoughts he injects in my mind

I know it's on the same place on the wound that you healed 

The scar was a testimony of my victory over the traumas of my childhood and the transgressions of my past

But he decided to butcher me on the same spot 

With past guilt, I wondered if I was worth the healing

So I didn't fight back with the sword

I didn't pull down every stronghold and imagination that exalteth itself above the knowledge of you


But why do I allow him when you placed the helmet of salvation on me?

.....


I have been reading a bit. I read Milton's Paradise Lost. A poem 







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