Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Ps 20

I fall short,
The mark missed
By such great margins,
As if I'm running to catch
The Sun,
Father God.

My words--
My deadliest weapon,
Skillfully honed
And expertly drawn.
My biggest strength
Is my biggest vice,
Dear Lord.

I am a warrior princess,
Daughter of the Most High King,
Who fights on both sides
Of the battlefield,
My Liege. 

I am a most unworthy subject,
One guilty of treason
One guilty of murder
Of adultery
Of greed and envy
All by using my words--
Like a sword melded with rhetoric,
Slicing and searing both friend and foe, 
My King.

Why would you ever grant me a hearing?
I who have betrayed and hurt you,
Should receive no mercy,
And yet...
My dearest Father,
I can still feel your love.

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