I am not a short thought
in the mind of God. I am
not all light and love.
I see the red-winged black birds,
sentries above the bramble. Do I
stand guard, do I block the light?
I do not hold together in one piece,
see how my love lay filtered out:
patience, kindness, mercy,
and the sediment:
pride, anger, judgment.
My cup is not clear,
but see the cloudy drink
break the light into color:
whose light breaks that does not shine?