The Blood

If I step out of the darkness

Robes and rags, mire and mud

And step into the light

Is the Blood really enough?

If you see my disfigure

The way lust scaled my eyes

How I’ve broken all my fingers

Does the Blood really suffice?

And if you knew my shifted spine

Where pride placed on the stone

That pulled and tweaked me out of place

Does the Blood really atone?

And all my rusted little trinkets

That’ve buried themselves in me

That protrude out of infected skin

Does the Blood cover these?

And if I told you of the mess

To place addiction in your hands

My own bloodied, beaten heart

Does the Blood, all this, demand?

If I told you my mind inclined

Me to up and walk away

No matter the amount of good that’s shown

No matter the amount of grace

Would you still wrap me in your arms?

Would you still have gone to the cross?

Would you still count me as gain

When all I’ve been is lost?

Would you still have spoken gentle words?

Would you still convince me I am free?

Would you still convince me I am loved?

If you really, really knew me

The light is bringing everything

Into it’s truest sad estate

Will I chose the darkness

Or the light as my escape

When light is bringing everything

Into it’s truest sad estate

And I am left to choose...

The Blood—

Abide?

Abate?