Pure

lips that slake the outside thirst
for clear waters leave
crimson petals on the glass
mocking the mask that belies innocence


rest eludes her racing mind
that shouts of soul
and eternal flames yet
sleep woud bring a different hell

no escape for the unworthy lamb
rejected by the good God
denied fairy tale redemption
she would rather stay silent
than hear her mocking bleat bounce
pitiful from pew to pulpit
forever and ever, Amen

in colors thrown by beautiful glass
on a seat worn smooth by time
she sits looking at a twisted man
remembering hurts from times past
that were sins against her
then lights a candle
and holds her hand above the flame
to feel something
the man on the cross
observes in total silence