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The redemption of Ungit

Blood flows over me, filling and spilling over the pits and lumps in my face.

Appeased, I relish the offering – life gives itself to me, and I drink thirstily;

This is beauty to me – I cannot have enough of it –

Red and coagulating, it clings to and covers the ugliness of myself.

I have never wept for any creature that is sacrificed on me –

Perhaps because each one feared me and my unending lust for the price of innocence.

Yet, you came untrembling, gentle, and lay your life over me.

I could not move in that moment, and was as a stone – fear me, fear me!

I am afraid; fear me!

Water runs down my face – it is your tears, and mine – why do I cry?

No sooner than when that life washed over me was I no longer a ball of blackened blood –

My visage has returned to one grey and undulating, like any of earth’s stones, and I am purified.

I don’t sit in a temple filled with cloying blackness or the smell of perfumed death –

Instead, I am in a forest, and it is morning;

Dew kisses my face, the birds are singing, and light shines through the new leaves.

I am soft for the moss that grows on me, and a bird plays in the places where water pools –

Life has grown on me, and I do not need more.

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Victory’s Lament

In the shadow of Mount Sinai I was born

Into a city that I had called my own, even when I had lost memory of it.

I had sought out its beauties, unrivaled in sea or on land and

Learned to love it for its brusqueness and elegance so crowded together, then beyond separation.

Are you happy now? That heads are rolling in the street, that the fat now have more to eat, that God’s places are filled with satanic doctrine, that anyone do any deed he pleases?

You didn’t say you wanted utter destruction, but you did – and you hated me, didn’t you? I sensed you would murder me, with long knife slashes gushing pools of blood if earthly consequences could be dammed.

Even God’s wrath is held back for a time – it is only by his grace that both the righteous and the evil have not been struck dead. I am struck with grief, that you take the sign of God’s mercy for pride, that you seek to dismantle every good thing that comes from above, wearing the raw skins of newborn lambs to do so.

He has already won the war – you will endlessly writhe in agony, for you have forever rejected your one salvation. You shall never touch the splendor of God, even when you have torn down the holiest of temples and the finest masterpieces from the hands and mouths of God’s messengers. For even now, my grief is only temporary at this marring of man’s creation, and therefore God’s – but you shall never snatch me from my Shepherd’s hand; my Lover’s arm; you shall never silence my Helper’s voice, the eternal Word that has ordained all that is, and therefore me. What has been paid has been paid from eternity to eternity, and my soul is forever bathed in my Redeemer’s blood; no matter how much blood is taken from me, His blood has made me pure and I am his friend.

You are not satisfied (for you, true happiness is forever an impossibility), and will never be; the day of salvation is at hand; the Lamb’s wedding is nigh; and no scheme nor construction will have it delayed. Out goes you, to the scalding pit, whose residents shall never again know God’s grace that he so lovingly bestows on all who still live.

And so in sorrow and quivering anger I say all that I can utter. This is not undue, yet what is to come cannot be undone. Though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, He is before and behind me, I am hedged in on either side in love, and He has borne it all for that which is set before Him:

Joy that will never know its end.