If I were in the bible,
I’d be everything you ever wanted and
the one you had to repent of.
I’d cut myself with thorns
but still chase after my rose.
I’d wrestle just as much
as the next guy.
I’d be the Goliath to every warrior
and
God’s “woman that got away”.
I would die with a canteen
of rum in one hand and a
prayer in the other,
with a man’s kiss
on my breast and another Man’s
scarred hands for my life.
I’d love them both.
I’d be all in and all out,
not half and half.
I’d singe with hot and cold.
I would dance under Bethel’s
gods as my spirit craves more
like the lions, like Adam’s rib,
like angel roars, for a much
greater love that exists.
I’d be thrown in the belly of the beast
or the den, I’ve made my share of homes
in dens before. I’d carve my name on
stones to pass the time.
I wouldn’t be the angel visiting type.
And I’d lose it over Delilah.
Oh, I’d adore Delilah.
I would cherish her more than Samson
because I understood her so much more.
I’d be the king who stuffed his exploding gut,
the pride that tore down the villages
before drinking away the regret,
the nonredeemable on the other
side of the street.
I would be the woman in the crowd
with an itch I can’t quite reach
as Jesus spoke on worthiness
in me.
I’d catch His eye and He’d look
at me like He found the horizon.
Like if He squinted, the target
would go straight through.
Like a bulls-eye was painted
on my chest
and Cupid’s got nothing on
His aim.
And I’d shake with desperation
with a longing for Him
I couldn’t ever shake off.
I’d have God in my skin
even in all of this.
This fight. This life.
This tale of my soul
as I take off my sandals
on all the wrong alters.
I’d be a mess of a mess
but I’d still have a place.
and a story worth telling.
I am all these things
but they were died for.
So all these things aren’t me anymore.
I’d be in one terribly
wrecked body, and I’d be
absolutely loved anyways.
andulkaphoto
prguitarman
kianamaiart
gummygunk
izzy806
theartofmadeline
