Thursday, October 24, 2013

The perfect Storm

I am stripped of the Clothes of worldly fashion
My bootstraps were stretched and fell to the floor
Along with everything false that I wore 

He was publicly stripped separated from community
Denied by a friend
Can you hear the rooster crow?
The world was not His home

Bricks flew from the hand of foes residing in friends
On each one was written my name
Breakfast at Tiffany’s "Joie de Vivre" fell to the end of my nose

Mocking dignity twisted a vine that was dead
Protruding with grand prongs of thorn
The Thruster jabbed the hat on His head
streaming vitality smothered adorn

The Proper stomped their processional march
Wearing insensible high heeled shoes
They poked and they prodded my unsheathed body
With the intent of fixing the blues

I scourged and I slashed Him till He was not recognized
He willing walked to the place
Where He would lovely die

Refusing the cup, I ungratefully heaped
Punishment on my head
It poured down my body as dripping Shame
Attempting to cover my pain 

He willing put out his hand and accepted the cup
Filled with my punishment
He clothed me with mercy and grace

His Ravishing Healing now tends the beautiful gate


                                                                          Jennifer Oosterhouse 2013

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