I wish I had the metaphors to
lend description to the love of God.
“A father throws his own son in front of a train…”
What an inadequate thought. You threw
him from heaven to earth – no.
More, he jumped.
I wish I could create a painting
that could capture the nature of his rescue mission.
It would need much red, white, and gold,
for the blood, the purity, and glory.
What pale colors they are, compared to his story.
Just flat colors.
I do not understand your choice of
loving us, Father. Why send him in the likeness
of our wicked brutal flesh? My God! What a wretch
I am, my heart and flesh at war within me.
In awe I am quiet, like a weaned child
in your arms.
I give up on trying to explain
your love. Surely it is surprising
when I feel the murder in my mind, the sloth in my soul.
Oh my God, had the contract not been signed in blood,
I could not believe it. But there it is, and now,
there I rest.