fallen…in rebellion
we are but broken twigs
fuel for feeding the fire;
ephemoral ash and smoke
all black-tarred with sticky guilt
destined for eternal combustion
in hot flames of the Almighty’s
justifiable wrath; pure holiness
cannot ignore injustice and
violence interminably nor can
Love itself tolerate ingrates’ hate.
his heart weeps as he sweeps
the good earth clean again in
a purifying inferno.
__________
forgiven…lifted up
by Grace we learn to
see our true selves as
repentant and redeemed;
washed joyous clean again
in the blood of the Son’s one
done sacrifice; destined for
eternal restored relationship
with our Creator/Father
who in open-armed mercy
accepts us in Agape love itself
which transforms our earthly
mirror images to reflect light
of perfecting peace.
a poem in my pocket 