Grace

Grace 

Grace
I heard you tore another hole
and from that solemn place
bore all the fire from your immortal soul.
I thought of you,
winding through some lonesome alley way
the detritus of forlorn days blowing down the avenue,
and in my minds eye you stood alone,
blinded to all the fractured cracks you had left at home,
knowing only the footsteps,
the hearkening forward rush in your heady plunge,
driving ever onward,
too silent and reticent to turn your back,
a sponge, soaking in the light,
your constant driven hunger,
rapacious in the flight.

Grace,
I heard you call my name,
and turning but for a moment, bursting into flame,
your ruddy eyes socketed to the law,
knowing where you had been,
only God, and some trembling sear,
could ever tell of what you saw.
The precession of judgment, meant little in your eyes,
for yours was a timeless vision,
a holy spell between the cries.

Grace,
enfolding darkness,
wrapped in the light of your infinite face,
your wings wrapped in circles around my heart,
turning into flames, the coddled mendicanted chant,
of love, of forgiveness, for sins not yet spoken,
paths, where only dreams, could herald those choices never broken.

Grace,
when all the world stood in horror at what was done,
you alone stood serene, and standing on the sun,
shone a light that dulled the crackens roar,
and swept between the multitudes of fangless beasts,
and more, you took the chance,
where none before had seen the fateful tide,
and ripped the spanking babe from out the titans bloody side.

Grace,
when will we learn,
that yours is not a calculated state,
but an end at the start,
a choice beyond some forlorn fate.
You smiled, and all the rays,
and gentle love, shone through those pores,
the balm of loves deliverance,
washed upon those bloody shores.
And still, I love you still, and being still...
Love, in Grace.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012