Fence

We sit on the fence
Where our fatal games
Have been played
Games that still call
With their lies of
Completion,
Inclusion,
Satisfaction;
One word arises above
Authority

There are no tricks
No slight of hand
No magical words;
Acceptance,
Trust,
Faith
Are the postures needed
To wield the sword
Authority.

Falling we do well
Practiced and precise.
Abiding in the squalor of
Guilt
We
Trust the lie of
Self deprecation
More than the truth of
Grace.

His seeking of us when
We are at our worst,
The lifting of our heads
When we believe we deserve
A blow from
His righteous hand,
His gentle yet insistent voice
Calling us to a deeper truth;
Deeper than the mire of
Ourselves,
Alone,
On the fence.