Justice for Broken Mirrors
born into quantum opacity
of the Wild Wild West
the mind searches recesses
of new dark rooms, times over
groping for shattered memory at the floor
shards cry out in the dark for justice
with weakened hope for true reflection
but an original “yes” to the Father
will echo in response
reminding them who they are
and cries will turn to Abba
then they will be transformed and renewed
for eternal unity
But, woe to the one who chose rebellion
for the pieces will be left as they are—on the floor
to be felt times over in dark copy rooms
I see through you
because I traveled through you
you are a black hole personified
you hide with sucking gums of old age
behind the youthful blood of children
you live among the dead
pushing off the inevitable
with your expansion of lust
tearing down all those weakened
in the wake of your descent
no longer will I lick wounds in worship
but body and spirit will rise
in one accord
as tectonic shifts of alignment
unseen, but felt deeply beneath
I will set free the captives, robbed
and will make manifest
the restoration of this new day
strong hands lead me now
toward eyes of amber light
my gaze will never waver
your time is running out
dust of our soles gather
in reverent low places
to be swept
by brooms made of lashes
deep calls unto deep
where grieved and misfit
meet Weaver
threading golden glory
with ease
like medicinal manuka
through the eye of
His needle
thick belonging made known
with slow drips down mind
to roll off tongues in praise