Hallowed

Death, you have truly lost your sting.

Hell, you have no victory now.

This I know, and I know it fully, without a shadow of a doubt.

Oh, but how this ache without you burns! How this sorrow rips and tears!

Consuming me in my own pain – blinding me in tears.

There is a pull of empty space beneath my breasts. The gnawing loss will not be appeased.

Creating a vacuum there that steals my breath and brings me to my knees.

And though I know Christ is victorious and thus his soul will not be bound.

Though I know he has been marked and claimed and offered up, hurt is all I feel right now.

If I could just see him in your kingdom. If I could just know that he’s okay.

If I could see, if I could know, then I know, yes, I know-that is not truly faith.

But if I were Holy, if I were good, if I could be a saint

Would my fervent prayers rise like incense then and carry glory’s weight?

So now my final plea is this

Here all my hopes are placed.

All the me that I may be may be gathered and erased.

For if there is sanctity in both love and loss, perhaps shalom may be found

Fill this void of me with who you are, and shalom will be found.

And then there in the hollow space, I might be hallowed by You now.