The Steady Slip of Grace

A Year of Sonnets — 069/365

Photo by Renee Fisher on Unsplash

Perhaps our love devours all the light
that God invests within our earthy bones
and we, so fated, lose the hopeless fight
that we, by human virtue, seem to own
beyond all strains of mercy. We endure
a million wounds and more. The cuts we take,
endure with stoic grace, becoming pure —
or so we’re told. Our bodies learn to break.
These little shards at first, impossible
to notice — flecks of skin lost to the breeze.
Oblivious, we think we’re strong and full
until some challenge bends us at the knees.
We fail our promise. All we love we lose,
the person we would be if we could choose.