Sunday, March 27, 2011

Sunday Poem: Sin



You are the dancer
who dances behind me.
Even when I swear
you are not there,
the mirror can see you.
Your eyes burning
holes in the back of my head,
your hands grasping
my waist
and pulling my
hair.
I open my mouth to speak,
and you gag me with your fingers.
You spin me right round,
kiss me dead,
on the lips
and leave your dirty 
lying words
between my teeth.
When I need peace,
you force open my mouth
and maneuver my tongue.
I vow to do good,
and you weave your talons
through each of my fingers
and raise my hands to evil
like puppet strings
to my turned-wooden body.
I say, "I'll go. Send me,"
and then you step on my feet.
I promise to be still
and know that He is God,
and you kick those same feet
out from under me.
I say stand;
You shove. I fall.
I say sit;
You drag me upright
and carry me into
the chaos.
I do not dare claim
my own humility,
because, then, you'll dress me up in glamour
and give me fame.
And when I give in
and love the fancy dress
that sparkles in the sun,
you'll strip me bare-naked
and teach me
humiliation.
Oh, how I beg God
tohelp me turn around
and force you out.
I beg Him to replace you
and to fill me,
so I can dance free,
two-step
to a new step
and moonwalk out the door.
Step-ball-change
to a new lover,
The Lover,
who would never
ever
force my hands.
Instead He stretched out His
and took the nails
you, Sin,
chose for me.
He danced your dance,
so I could choose
my own.

HT

Inspired by THIS VIDEO.

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