Ghazal

Surely, I have sinned--as sure as Eve--and
chosen chaff and slaved to catch the wind.


Despair looks and grins and flings destruction,
refuse, floats regrets atop the wind:

"Prickle, skin. You are a leaf against the
riven resonances of the wind."


See what has me pinned against this wall?
Fear, to put it simply--not the wind.


Grant another kind of fear and motion:
down from heaven, different kind of wind.

Odd to claim as kin, to call out "Father,"
claim love from Commander of the wind. 


What has been will be forgotten now.
Rise, embrace the cleansing of the wind.

Now, my soul, begin! God's Spirit brings His
slave the sun-bright freedom of the wind.