grace

i long for peace and purpose,
voice and reason,
a burning passion
a snowflake in season

an open field
a deep breath
a vast sea of phosphorescence
laid out before me
fine sand beneath my toes

i long for patience
and a quiet if reluctant understanding
that malice is never my intention
pain the last thing i wish to dish out

i long for the twisted knots around my conscience
to uncoil
i long to know that this is finally what i should be doing
should have stepped up to do
a long time ago

then again

this time seems good
this time seems ripe
this time i know its time
in the throes of sorrow
irreconciliable digits
like the ones i struggle to balance
on many a bright saturday night

the thing i say i would never do
may be the very thing that makes me me
the very thing that i've hungered for
longed for
all this while
martyrdom does not become me
my fake white gown is tainted

i long
how i long
for grace
in my weary flight
from this place