Broken Light
I lied.
I cheated.
I borrowed.
I stole.
I was perverse
in thought and action.
I fucked.
I ran naked through
the woods
screaming
Jehovah’s name.
I lost myself in
so many thoughts,
people, and delusions
of grandeur.
And now I’m here.
I have no dreams left.
I have cracked open
to my brokenness,
living in my core.
That place that is unredeemable
except
in the living it as such.
In being what I am
freshness cleanses
the wound
so that its revealed to be
my destiny,
giving birth
to this broken light.
I stumble down
these halls
banging against
my self-inflicted walls
pretending I’m great
or straight or narrow
when I’m not.
I’m nothing of the sort.
I’m wicked game.
A fuselage
ready to explode
rocketing into orbit
around the sun.
and it takes just one moment to
bring me there,
That place between
you and I
that hurts,
that groans,
that’s murky
and disgusting.
none of it is far from here,
if you but scratch the surface
of this moment.
That is my gift.
11-7-11
Eric Grace ©
