WAILS OF THE WRAECCA

PART VIII: LAST IN LINE WITH A BROKEN CUP

I visit

Headstone after

Headstone

In my memory--

Leave lillies

Of regret--

Cross myself from habit

And hope they are doing

Better than I am

*

Tense beneath my brave face

Hard done by and sore from it

I struggle

With belittled hubris

Prodded by fear

As the only guidance available

Persistent as consequence and

Hard as forgiving one's self

*

Oh poor victimized

Clans of crap

Rise up and kill

Your true oppressors--

Commit suicide

*

To question at all God's Will

Means an instant fall from Grace--

Who knows their own hope purely--

Undeluded?

*

Is this the glory in suffering?

To be first up in heaven

For a swig of Living Water

Who on earth was

Last in line with a broken cup?

*

Done down again

And yet again and

God Goddess Whoever Almighty--

You never tire--

Grace getting far less of a workout--

How about surprising the hell out of us

And letting goodness manifest as something more

Than a broken ideal?

Would creation truly collapse

From a brief flash of mercy?

Grant surcease please!

I weary of the mournful cuckoo

Building a nest from remorse--

Am I too unworthy to ask for the dove--

With head aflame atop blinding wings?

Would goodness build it a nest

I for one'd Promise not to try to kill it--

*

With only regret

To guide me

I move ahead

Fearful of

The sweetness of

Divine promise--

Fearful the promises

Will be fulfilled--

What would I do then--

Ready for anything but

The Grace

I despaired

Of receiving?

*

Grace may abound

When most we've fallen--

--But our fall is so swift

And Grace so slow

*

Amends?

One tries-

Enduring love

That often

Feels as if

One were being

Tortured by

An enemy

*

The pride of the meek

Will undo each promise--

The hubris of suffering

Squandering our inheritance

*

God will stem evil

In God's good time

--Sadly we suffer

Under a different clock

*

I must forget Time

--whatever aspects signal Change is slow

As the ignorant that misses it

And passes off The loss of this chance

As a test of patience

*

Useless to denounce the world--

Horror from good intentions at cross-purposes

As hard as evil seeking

Its disruptive advantage--

Unless you're into confession--don't bother--

Any who hear will be offended--

Will say--"Who are you to say?"

When God has the last word anyway--

*

May I find

My strength of patience

Against hatred of world

That binds me to world--

Trying to find the Way

Where signs are scarce

[End of PART VIII.]

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.