Friday, September 6, 2013



I put You through Hell,
so I suppose I deserve
no less than purgatory.

I must climb
that mountain alone,
without You. 

There is no other path
to redemption,
to forgiveness,
no other way
to wash
these wounds.

So I will begin
by scaling Pride,
bearing the stone
of my own creation

upon my bare back.
I will stare down
on my way up,
learning to see
everything beneath me

with more clarity.

Envy seems easy,
as I have a generous spirit;
but here too,
there is work to do,
to roam with my eyes
sewn shut
until I learn to listen
to my heart,
to stop hating
those ready to take
what I’ve lost.
Ownership is
only arbitrary.

I will rise
above Wrath,
allow my meek 
nature to shine
through, not let
myself be blinded,
by wrath’s acrid 
smoke & seek
harm for those
who’ve caused
me pain.

I shall not be beaten
by Sloth, by my desire
to fold,
to hide,
to die
in the face
of each failure, 

to get lost
in perpetual mourning.
Rather, I must work,
keep busy,
keep moving,
keep living,
for death before dying
is a Hell in Life,  

a perilous prison
in whose residence
my soul would only rot.

I will glide
through Greed,
as my desire
for things, for riches,
for great gain,
has never been
My desires have always
lain elsewhere.

Nor am I saddled
with Gluttony,
being One of
for the most part.
That is not to say
that there are not times
when temperance
is needed,
when I allow
myself to get lost
in the smoke
forgetting how Holy
the fumes are. 

Ah, Lust!
How to even begin
battling those flames,
fighting the fire
that consumes me
for You? Here,
like Dante, I
will lie in wait,
afraid to face
my flaws.
Here, You must be
my Virgil, reminding
me that only in
risking getting burned
can I ever hope
to reunite
with my own,
beloved Beatrice.

& here I will summit,
each sin purged,
brushed away
by the wings
of angels.
I will summit,
reach Paradise,
find my innocence, 


Yet I am full
of fear,
fear that for all
my climbing,
for all my penance, 

I will learn much,
but earn nothing:
No Beatrice to guide
me through Heaven,
No Love to fly me
over the hard,
cold rock I have
traveled. But I cannot 

allow fear to stop me. 

I walk this path to heal,
not to be rewarded. 

Your Love is a gift
which I must be prepared
to never receive, again.

But I tell you,
My Love,

It is what drives me.

If You do ever offer
Your blessing again,
to feel Heaven again,
I swear to keep it
Holy, for Heaven 
is no place 
for the lowly.

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