God's mercy and his justice...which makes you whole? |
The doctor says to take a breath, To let go. Don't let it bother me. And I take a deep breath, all for show, Pressing my lips together. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I want to yell, scream, flail at her. "Who are you to tell me to let go? Let go of what? Who I am? What I've done? Who I've loved?" Am I to leave it be, to trust in some Invisible God to reach out His hand And save me from myself and others? God has better things to do, I think. The pastor says to take a breath, To kneel and pray, to ask for God's Oh-so-infinite Justice. Like a shot, A bolt of God's loving mercy down My human spine. A prick of divine Penicillin, to kill the hatred and the Doubt that spreads through my veins. "I'm allergic to God," I say. "His Shots just make me sick." I blaspheme, then, to fuel the Sickness. Maybe God's wrath Will cleanse my soul where His Mercy feeds my disease. My teacher says to take a breath, It's just a test, it's just your life, Just a grade, just enlightenment Wrapped in blue paper. The ink of my blood, of my knowledge, Melts into the pages. As my facts, As my figures and tabulations, The story of the world as-is, Fill the pages with the Earth's Long memory, I take a breath And fill the void with fear. I lose myself without my tales, My soul has no fuel to sustain it Without the histories of life. I need to asphyxiate, I think, To experience what the others Call faith. Is this God's Justice or His Wrath come to save Me? Or the Misfit, come down the Road to kill me, a murderous Reflection of Christ? I need to be Shaken, the Etch-a-Sketch End of my soul. Then, maybe, God can reach out and save me, With His mercy. And I will be Dutibly fearful of his Wrath. |