Revival

I had hung my head

I had forgotten the feel of long pine board as it met my shin
.. and my mouth the wet feel of confession
My God
The whisper of it had drawn from bow
.. to silence
My back had arched from nearer to thee

And then a brutal morning led to a garden
.. My Mother
Her sweet care caressed a cry for help
My God
His hand upon my wounds absorbed by his

I returned to his feet