There's no crevice you can hide in,
no hole you can dive in,
no demon you can muster from the depths of your past that can keep me away. 
I have already decided to be with you. 
You weep, break loose at the seams,
wear your shame as if I haven't already given you the grace to sing in the face of your sin.
Or do you think your problems are too big?
When you choose to leave my forgiveness
dripping from that cursed tree, 
untouched, unshaken by the crack I left
in all that ever was, is, and will be,
do you mean to tell me that my bending the cosmos
until it split in two, 
and life walked forth from death's womb, 
remains insufficient for you?

Refusing to forgive yourself after I have cleaned your stains and called you
finished
is like shooting a pistol with no bullets in it.

You are wasting time. 

Cover Photo by Nick Scheerbart on Unsplash