You wrote love in the sky, hanging, dripping with blood.
You sent thunder and lightning, rain poured in a flood
To break down my cages and wash away sin’s mud.
Your Satan-crushing death sent my bars shattering,
And you stand in their breach, open hands beckoning;
Yet I shrink to the corner, in filth huddling.
Your voice whispers gently, but I block up my ears.
Refusing to listen and replying through tears:
“It’s not fair, I’m worthless, I deserve to be here!”
“But I love you, made you, you were worth it to me.”
‘Mazed, I look up, is there a possibility
That I could be cleansed, that I could ever be free?
“I’d go with you, stay beside you, be where you are.
Yet know if I stumble, that I’d crawl away far,
Back to my self-‘flicted cages, back to these bars.”
“I know, but I will come, and I’ll follow you in.
I’ll embrace you, hold tight, and rescue you again.
For you’re my own sheep, and my love ‘whelms any sin.”
And so I will follow him, place my hand in his;
My hand in my lover’s, full of the joy he gives.
Behind are broke-down cages; now with him, I live.
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This Poems Story
This is my personal story. A story of freedom offered, but guilt keeping my from accepting it, turning my imprisonment into my own. It's the story of a love not based on myself, a love stronger than my brokenness. The story of a love that never has given up on me.