Suffer into Freshness

I wrote this poem on my phone, hence the short lines and meter. Clearly some angst on this particular day…

Suffer into Freshness

Is there a faith that is safe
From fading vacuous jargon
And well-intentioned simpletons
Who trample through the garden?

The further I remove myself
From religious ways of thinking
The more I notice emptiness
And sentiment that’s sinking.

Is this a sign of my decline
Into a heart that’s hardened?
Or a clearing of my sight
To metamorphing pardon.

Long indeed we’ve coiled ourselves
Around a stake so prideful
Removed from all refining strikes
And dismissing all as sinful.

Comforted by callousness
Shadow-men we conquer
The fight it seems is further on
Than we’re prepared to strive for.

If this is why You’ve called me here
I think I missed Your warning
In pain of ugly loneliness
I barely saw You dawning.

Neither am I pleased to be
Amidst this revelation
I barely trust my feelings here
And hide in trepidation.

There is a faith that’s dangerous
And solid as a cave-in
It leaves Christianese in its wreck
And defies easy atheism.

Faith that’s found readily
Alive in every situation
No sound of tin or empty wind
But true, resounding reason.

Unafraid of their unbelief
Doubt doesn’t bear believing
It’s the crusading sycophants
That set my heart fast beating.

Too afraid and too convinced
To ever stop and listen
We inculcate, inebriate
With the very life we’re missing.

Meanwhile the fraudophiles
Take every grace we cherish
And empty out our emptiness
Until I cannot bear it.

How could we so passively
Surrender all that’s weighty
And hold You up as flimsiness
Chanting nothingness with gaiety?

Smash these walls that hide away
Our glorious appearance
Relegate our crass disguise
To nakedly make entrance.

Soon the knives will painfully
Circumcise our brashness
Clean of heart and head and hands
We’ll suffer into freshness.

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