The Acquisition

She is freezing in this weather.
But why?
Why, when she's not even outside
where it's just below sixty degrees
and fog might chariot over lucidity....

She,
a jar brimming with unanswered
screams that pile up like questions,
secrets of eternity.

She is watching the length
of her hair, the lines on index fingers,
the mirrors behind her eyes,

is there supposed to be spirit
behind those mirrors?
Light just reflects back at her
if she stares for too long.

Confused memories rammed
into versatile lobes and her
brain counting money...

for all the times she led
a life of thieves.

Taxes are fountain pens now
with no possibility of deleting-
she's tracing the ink
against her pulse,
reading and listening that
she is worthy for forgiveness
yet instead calling it a
fantasy for the rich.

She's broke, in debt,
not financially though.
Is there a way to look to
validate she is who her name
stands for?
All these silhouettes praise...
yet she feels her strength
has been a storm-ridden
town.

She's remembering the love
God is always offering,
but not having faith in it,

not enough faith to tell God
she will receive grace.

God, please save her.

* Written October 13, 2012 at 10:14 pm.