Finalizing this one last time.
My due process in this world abides.
The faceless crowd pointing, screaming, hatred in their plea.
But inside me lies a meaning, a release from this disease.
Where is the nighttime and has the Light walked into their hearts?
Because He is every piece of what reminds the evil to depart.
I suppose the wrenching pain is an acid raining death,
for when the shadows try to claim them,
their own cries die in their last breath.
Yes, this world needs better,
yet this is not my final testimony.
Bleeding on the brokenhearted is turning them into purity.
I am one. The sheep who fled to be swept away by feeling.
And now I know who Grace is.
He met me on this healing.
Poetry by Aimee inspired by Red’s album, “Until We Have Faces”.
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