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Bring Me Your Dead

Quiet, washing waves over my feet
stand above the vows I could not keep

Pressed against sloping shadows crushing
round the once and future garden
hallowed by the obedience
profaned by the betrayal

Chained to the ugliness of humanity
and bleeding from the weight
of worlds and authority of flesh
under law
under lies
under lust
for what is not ours and only
dressed us down for death
when we grasped it to us

Grated against the grieving gaping
gashes of our failing mingled in the
salty sorrows of the ages aching

Golgotha, bring me your dead:

                    He will teach us how to live again.
                    (We have only been surviving.)

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