Even This One

Wounded
even this one
like so many
tears
swelling
uncontrollably
adding ambush to defeat
clustering like grapes
whaling
spilling more loss
into an emptiness growing
replete with regret
recalling
how it once was
imagined.

Someone had lied
whispers in a garden
where truth was
traded
and doubting triumphed
suddenly
nakedness saw
and understood its need to hide
feeling the sun setting
the heart ablaze
with darkness
even
though it was
clinging to life lit
with each cold laugh
dripping
with its own dire need
to overcome
this dying.

Accused
even this one
like so many
lost
searching
desperately adding
qualm to questions
when she heard

The Word

Walking
Piercing
Asking

Who has told you that you were naked?
From dirt you were taken
And
To dirt you shall return
Naked
Unless you turn…

She spun
flung
at His feet
with so many questions
and all her accusers
vanished
gone
even
the biggest
boulder tumbled
turning her many scars
to sweetest perfume mixing
her flood of tears with His
love never ending
and complete.

Healed
even this one
like so many
streams
swelling
uncontrollably
adding gratitude to grace
clustering like golden
grapes
spilling more sweetness
into an emptiness growing
replete with hope
recalling
how it once was
foreshadowed.

Someone had prophesied
prayers in a garden
where fear was
traded
and love triumphed
suddenly
nakedness saw
and understood its need to hide
feeling the sun setting
her heart ablaze
with love
even
though she saw
it nailed to a cross
with each cold spike
dripping
with perfect life
to dethrone
this death.

Victorious
even this one
like so many
redeemed
swelling
uncontrollably
adding melody to music
clustering like grapes
rejoicing
spilling more gladness
into this victory sealed
replete with grace
revealing
how it once was
promised.

Petra O. Hefner

Scripture

From Desert Dust

I was pulled from desert dust
by perfect truth and purest love;
was yearning to live, yet already dead
clinging to opinions, yet sorely misled
covered in scores of clandestine scales
a sour crudeness oozing
from old hidden snares
and polished sins
and tallest tales;

was placed into a peculiar garden
where sheets of tears and heavy sighs
began to thaw the frozen ground on which I lay
where overhead a purer light exhaled its warmth
dispelling the night that kept me hid so well,
its rays gently wrapping my aching head
held by the One who had found me
who sat kissing my pallid face
who dried the crimson cleansing rain
that fell like pelting pebbles
against my softening skin;
who wrapped me
in His robe of grace
and spoke
forgiveness
while He bled
from scores of wounds
and deepest stripes
until I felt his nails
in mine own
hands!

Did I?

What worm is this?

And then I fell as one dead
into His all-consuming fire
burning ALL
but His beauty
bright as morning
rising
resurrected
yet deep within
me!

Did I
survive?

What grace is this?

Petra O. Hefner

Scripture