O God my head!
Your anvil slamming my temple
Has got to stop. The throbbing doesn’t
Help me to see what’s sin and what’s not.
Do you hear the twilight in my sighs?
The setting sun is eroding my faith
With colours too bright for purity.
Must evil be beautiful
Or
My beauty be sin?
Is
White, stark, the only shade to sing?
It will make me raving mad for the rainbow you once promised.
All colours make black, yes Lord, black as sin
But I’d rather my eyes grow dim
Than see all hues in me turn into the
Dark inks that I write the prayers with
That I put into my private wailing wall.
Have You read them yet?
Or am I on your back burner boiling over my voice
Evaporating with the steam that disappears
On its way on up to You?
I must be still. Let you choose my pain and illustrate my story with colours more brilliant than a sunset.
