Bloodied hands made soft through violence.
How is it the very thing that would destroy me
upholds me when I have lost the ability to stand?
Holy destruction that cannot be assuaged.
Your shelter has saved me from myself
and from the blows of those unlawful works.
How is it you are not my enemy?
I do not understand the love that drives you
to stand over me as guardian, even from your own.
Divine paradox, I am grateful for your company.
And while the light you cast throws shadows in disarray,
your presence is a reminder there is recovery, even for me.