March Writing Challenge Day 21: ‘Course He Isn’t Safe.

I’ve felt the dry heat of hell

Nipping violently at my heals

On the darkest nights of my barely lived life

When my sin is no longer concealed

Disintegrating right off my brittle bones

Like the rust on an old automobile

Laid out prostrate and not a single tear left

Now the light can finally do a skin peel

Making its way through all the cracks and valleys

Breaking up habits congealed

Finding its way to the root of my mess

A feeling that’s almost unreal

Attacking my sludge-covered heart like an untamed lion

Squeezing that evil until it squeals

Bleeding the death right out of my tendons

The tomb I was in unsealed

Twisting and blending, what excruciating pain

As the lion devours His meal

Torn apart, massacred, and gracefully broken

I am ready and willing to heal.

 

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”