amy williams

Who But Me To Slay Myself - Poem by amy williams

Who but me to slay myself in shame?
To weary my breath of doubt, my tongue of loss?
Who but me to bury my body in guilt?
To hide from atonement, the life of the cross?
It is I the sinful, the arrogant, and the ignorant,
I who refused my only chance to ever be.
It is I who is at a loss, my ears deaf,
My sight become what I can’t see.
You are what, the imaginary?
You a vision of a live and livid dream,
A purpose greater then minds knowing
Of what life should ever seem?
A love stronger than my meaning,
Truth belonging to an endless time,
Can I but forget when my heart leaning,
Will only ever live to seek you?
Grace pounding at my uncertain, unwilling heart,
My yearning to be loved?
No, what I can not forget I will long for,
What I cant understand, I strive,
When which cant be seen, I wish for eyes,
That I was loved, although A sinner.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 15, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 25, 2011

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