Peter, the Forgiven
By Jennifer Singleton - Corsicana, Texas, USA - 12 February 2016
You don’t have to say you’re sorry for all the
Transgressions, the misconceptions
The sayings of truths, God-held
The daisy in your arms, half-broken
Stem, it longed to be there
Quivering, it was a rose instead! Bright
Pom pom’s. It rose elegantly in your
Hand, as it bobbed up and down in your
Hand all the way down the
Hall. It even circumvented the living room
And all the God Stuff it held in there. Crosses,
Jesus, it was all meant for me, holding me
Carefully, Lazarus was meant to rejoice
From the dead when he saw the cross
Sitting so carefully by your sofa.
Saving Grace. It came reluctantly, I am saved
So far as the priest said in his forgiveness. You
Had a part in it, you said something to it, Lazarus,
I call you, from the dead. He held no penance
From me that I could tell. The hospital bed, the teeth
With the tobacco stain. It was me, it is me, it once was
Me. I scrape, and yet, my soul, cannot cleave from yours.
Your soul, which is pure, and holy, and forgiven.
I am not your forgiven, I am your offspring, I am
An iris, left unattended, your offering. I offer myself
Up, and become as one with you as possible. John,
The beloved, I become to you. Peter, the risen, I become
To you. I am a cross, unbroken, memories forgiven,
Thoughts forgiven. I am beloved, I am cherished,
I am one with the holy words of God. In your name.