i would love my hands be musaged
My hands got stuck in the clay
My skin melts into its blackness.
I became one with it!
I slouched through the mush of my decay.
I smelt the perfume of my horrors.
And wept at the snigger of the hollow.
I looked up and saw the light.
I clawed through the darkness.
I miffed through my tears and felt
The sorrow of the miry Clay.
My soul sniffed my shame.
My hands shook with defeat.
I struggled to save what was left,
But grasp empty air!
Love looked me in the eyes and screamed.
Faithfulness hissed at my discomfort.
Hope staggered when I called.
Faith strolled past me in disgust.
Mercy held me close…
And I caught a glimpse of heaven.
I am, but a clay…
Can love forgive all sins?
I wrote this poem when I heard the story of a woman whose husband repeatedly abused her, physically and…
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