Not one space left unfilled..

Even now, in  darkest hour, am I shunned?

That no eye could look upon me?

For my disgrace is too great

For I have fallen into an open pit

The mouth of hades, wide open to receive me

My friends aghast at my predicament

Can only stand afar, no reply, no comfort

For to look upon this pitiful creature

Is to see, like blood upon her menstrual cloth

No longer vital, not a thought

Discarded, left in refuse…spent

Must be put away for good and gone.

Somehow…yet…

Life-Blood still within her

Stirring, churning, murky – then clearing

The Waters deep,  as waves

Once pounding, grinding sands upon the sea shore

Now slowing…rolling, gently once again

The sound of breath and breeze, refreshing soul

And tempest gone…for season

Darkness not engulfing, not trapped

Nor burdened be..consumed

Now open spaces, breathing

His Life-Blood into me

 

A place where foe nor friend

Can reach, nor words can spake

Of Gentleness so fine

Sifted through His wounds and veins

The Blood He spent is mine.

 

He reaches, with hands extended

From there upon the cross

Tho weary and expended,  breathe ragged

Catching, wrenching in such pain

Pierced hands, blood covered

One finger is enough

Upon this wounded soul of mine

So untouchable, unclean

 

Between each breathe, it seems so long,

Yet every breath so sweet, for one gulp more

For Life alone is not now found in

dark confines of circumstance and soul

The air is pure, the open space Divine

Supplied and clean and fresh

The oxygen for all of me to thrive

All parts infused, no cell denied

Not one space left unfilled.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s