My Turn From Heaven


My ashes are to dust betrothed,
My bones ‘neath lily and the rose;
My soul, which hath no penitence,
Shall ne’er see heaven’s countenance.

While God doth cry on bended knee,
“Who brought this vile wretch to Me?”
I have no prayer to speak for me,
Nor do I seek His sympathy.

I’ve cast my lot upon this heap
Come now an everlasting sleep;
As angels flee on bended wing
My unwinding was a simple thing;

Light heart though first was given me
Soon beat with endless misery:
Once hopeful dreamer fast awoken
Songs unsung and no words spoken

Continually seeking His advisement,
Receiving only harsh chastisement –
As a child I prayed for his bemusement,
Tho, my suffering lent to His amusement

He offered love, and then he took
My loved ones from his holy book.
He filled my life with misery
And hid Himself in the Trinity.

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Lashed me to their whipping post,
And each with certain celestial glee
Tore the very heart from me.

And so began my slow decline
That leaves me now in full recline;
I have no faith, nor do I now,
Profess in this my final hour

To seek His love and lifting grace
In this my final resting place.
In timeless repose, let me rest
A thorn insert into my breast –

For pain is something dear to me
Tho His lust for it unclear to me.
Why such angst and bitter spew?
You do not know the God I knew.

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