Wednesday, September 20, 2006

sorry, then, if i did not live up to your expectations
not good enough a friend, a sister, a daughter, a person
sorry, then, if it was too easy to let the dirt ride up
sink deep into the mud of the past
afterall it's been eroding layers and layers of my skin away
until what's left is a tiny piece of shrivelled thing
i suppose that'll be my heart
maybe it'll be so pure so pure
without the guilt it carries and the sins
all the 'what-if's' and 'maybe's' and the hundred times i've sinked
maybe i'll be corroded and torn apart
until what's left is substance so clean
i suppose there has to be something left
i suppose that'll be my heart
i wonder what it's like to be purged that way
when i close my eyes and then disappear
you never knew i could go this way
sometimes i don't know what to say
the mistakes keep catching up
will i ever be good enough?
the questions are like hooks that pull my flesh
i don't know what's pain now
i think i've learnt how not to feel
so that i can pretend i've always felt strong
i've learnt how to pretend i can be vulnerable in intimacy
when the walls are so high i can't scale them myself
and i'm afraid when they come crumbling down
you'd see how small i really am
i don't have anything to offer but mistakes
so then how much forgiveness is enough?
wash me like snow, like snow, like snow
that falls gently over footprints and dirt
and in the morning when the rays of light
filter through the dust
we don't know what happened
we only see a landscape of white
i suppose that'll be my heart

Isaiah 1:18

18 "Come now, let us reason together,"
says the LORD.
"Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red as crimson,
they shall be like wool.

Psalm 51:7

7 Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.


There's something beautiful about purity- white, white, white as snow.

debbie at 10:47 AM