The Miry Clay!

i would love my hands be musaged

S. S. David

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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