Posted by: Lisa | October 27, 2014

Blood and Water

Footsteps drawn to the sound
of spouting triple-tiered fountain
where waters eternally leap and pour
matching the torrent of tears
in my desolate inconsolable soul.

Skin so thin yet
unable to be torn
blocks my raw bloody
core so sore yet
pulsing with desire
unable to be worn.

You hung upon the cross
for three hours —
really, I know,
for three thousand years.
Otherwise, I’d gladly
trade three hours
for 70-80 years.
In blood and water
we are born.

“To your eyes a thousand years
are like yesterday, come and gone,
no more than a watch in the night.
Our span is seventy years
or eighty for those who are strong.
And most of these are emptiness and pain.
Make us know the shortness of our life
that we may gain wisdom of heart.”
(Psalm 90:4, 10, 12)

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