From the Life of Death

When I was younger, I sought life in all the wrong places,

Hell was a norm for me, boredom equating to compromise of integrity and my body.

I looked for life, and through my long search I found her, my wife.

Death.

The stench of formaldehyde masked by the myrrh and aloes of her words,

Inviting me into her chambers,

Folly taking my hand to ensure the success of me getting under the dress of,

Hypocrisy. That is what I became that day.

Dressing up the smell of death with a smile and a suit,

Masking the kisses she gave me with long sleeves,

cut to hide the incisions that I couldn’t acknowledge

without having to look down at the long cuts beneath my sleeves and jeans.

And as time progressed, we had a son,

Sin.

He was the fruit of my loom,

the inevitable doom looming over me every time I nurtured him with another coping method

To ‘get by.’

I was a survivor in this cruel relationship, for all the substances I used reflected the state of relationship: Abused.

I was sunk in debt of the pleasure that became my chains, and the one ensuring their secureness was the two I let into my chambers. Or did they lead me into theirs? Who cares.

This was my life, and it was killing me.

But somehow, someday, from my life of Death,

a cry escaped from the gag in my heart,

Pleading with the powers that be for an escape from the hell ‘relieving’ me.

And came in did the cavalry.

Rescuing me from myself and the exposure of my sleeves, neck ties,

and with one clean slice, I took my life…

To him. I cut off all that I was with his two edged sword.

Word, sworn to protect and save,

Me, finally using the legs given to me by Grace to run free of the lies that grew within,

Sin, seeing me run, called to his mother, my wife,

yanked on the chains around my neck just to find that someone else was connected.

They took him in and Death, in spite, killed him mercilessly.

And yet, in spite of all they did, Mercy took what was less, and made me royalty.

He took every weapon that had kept me prisoner, every key to the locked doors in my heart,

And imprisoned her and her son for eternity

So that the Son may once again reign in his son.

Me.

He rescued his enemy, made a friend, and had the heart to give me his.

Heart, of such purity and delight that every morning I am taken by surprise as he greets me gently with “good morning. What would you like to do, my dear?”

I’ll let you decide.