Descent

I want yahweh to scrape my soul clean,

To create within me a new spirit,

To make of me a wanderer upon this earth,

To make me wonder what it is I cannot see.

I wonder what it’s like to be free from me,

What it was like to watch the mother give birth,

To take all you lived and earned only to give it,

To stand alone as a remnant, to believe, to dream.

To be replenished.

Take my burden, he said.

Why, I asked him through one eye.

Because, he replied gently,

My yoke is light.

I lost my vision then because he took my sight.

I was not blind then but now I cannot see.

Scrape my soul clean, I confessed, make it dry.

And then the crown around his head bled red.

It is finished.