SINS

I sat in church the other day

No vicar in his frilly dress

Just the Lord frowning down.

His gilded image on the cross

High above the altar cloth

Tell me, Lord, not from words written in the Bible

How you mean to save me from myself?

I do not stop collecting sins along my way

Nearing my end, I feel their weight

The burden slows my steps.

Tell me, Lord, would the water

From the Jordan wash my sins away?

Is one good deed enough for you to look my way?

To shine your light and say, “My son

Your sins I will take this day.”

No voice was heard inside my head.

I left the church. The heavens opened

In bucket loads, water left the sky

My face I lifted and did not see

The car that swept my life away…

©Anita Dawes