Pure

Pure
______

Lips that slake the outside thirst
for clear waters leave
crimson petals on the glass.
Mocking the mask that belies innocence.

Rest eludes her racing mind
that shouts of soul and
eternal flames, yet
sleep would bring a different hell.

No escape for the unworthy lamb
rejected by the good God,
denied fairy tale redemption.

She would rather stay silent
than hear her mocking bleat bounce
pitiful from pew to pulpit.
Forever and ever, Amen.

In colors thrown by beautiful glass,
on a seat worn smooth by time.
She sits looking at a twisted man
remembering hurts from times past
that were sins against her.

Then lights a candle and
holds her hand above the flame
to feel something.
.
The man on the cross
observes in total silence.