January 14, 2017 · poetry

Washing Away the Salt

A generous bouquet
you've brought me,
guns and roses, whiskers and kittens.
I smell sage and pent-up fury
from the last batch I gave to You.
My Lord and my God,
with my presence here
I do you homage,
I with my pride and sweat-soaked fear.
It's what I have for You today;
take it away and leave me be.

I have buckets and buckets of tears
saved up for You, my God.
Hours and hours I poured into them,
my own heart's blood.
So why, when You come to take my offering,
can we do nothing but laugh?
Help me out here, God;
I'm a fly in the ointment,
trapped and shaking
the whole bucket with mirth.

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