Isaiah’s Invite

Cut off, divorced, shunned and exiled

Whatever the word, it leaves me defiled

The pain of bifurcation

Or more aptly, separation

As I’m ripped and flicked off

Like dead, sunburned skin

I’m certainly out now,

But

Was I ever really in? 

My presence always provisional,

Predicated on consent

To abuse perennial?

If belonging is based on bigotry,

Then maybe I should bless the one

Who discarded me,

Praise God I was flicked away. 

For at the end of the day

The body I once belonged to

Already suffers decay:

Toxicity Incarnate.

No.

I know now that

God wants to graft me

Not onto death, but life.

God bids me to wait

For divine hands to splice me

Onto the Root of Jesse–

An overlooked stump,

Prophetic throne,

Reminding me I’m not alone.


Photo from Visual Hunt.

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