A Psalm of Repentance

The road to an apology

is fraught with theology.

The twists and the turns

are the bumps and the burns

of a heart in the throes of agony.

The words an illusion

of my soul’s contusion.

I continue to stumble

with each word that I mumble,

and I am slave to my endless confusion.

The relief that I seek

is on Mercy’s peak.

My struggle to the top

made worse by each drop,

until I am sufficiently shown I am weak.

The wind reaches down.

I am given Your crown.

When my silence is silent,

I am released from the Tyrant,

and I am clothed in a new white gown.

Forgiveness cannot be obtained,

as my old gown cannot be unstained.

The renewal comes from You,

as a gift, it is true,

and through it, my heart you have claimed.

by Alyssa Carlburg