Great One, retire my insistence upon
remembrances of ways and times and talk
that match not God-viewed reality.
Darken my bright skies if only
to ensconce my darkness,
shattering all illusions of self-projected greatness.
Pry open the coffins of dreams long forgotten,
commitments never kept, promises never made,
if only to unleash the surprise of grace.
Scatter my nice collections of mantelpiece spiritual kitsch
and replace them with broken glass, bits of string, yesterday’s ashes
if only to remind me of my own frailty.
Tear the gilded pages from my life’s journal
and use them like fish-wrap to enfold
someone else’s yet to be written story.
Plant new gardens of life
from places of my own death.
Spur on to greatness the little ones
from my own obscure forgottenness.
Prop up their ailing mistresses of peace and hope
with the severed arms of my own distress.
Renew in light the victimized, en-shadowed and de-spoiled
with my own pursuits fit only for stolen kingships.