The waning light
Bleeding, bruised
Yet, on fire for me
Like Lot’s wife
I looked
But found mercy, found grace
Having fled the chaos
Found a late rainbow
There
The waning light
Bleeding, bruised
Yet, on fire for me
Like Lot’s wife
I looked
But found mercy, found grace
Having fled the chaos
Found a late rainbow
There
I could never get these counters clean
enough
Stone cold, loud, black granite
Flecked with all my faults
I could never make them gleam bright
Enough, now
Everything that touched those surfaces
Shattered and still makes my hands bleed