Not Holy Enough my Bow
He gave to me the end of this, a string
Of gold. I tried to make it endless, pure.
His love of Heaven’s white hot God might sing
Perfection. Love like that, though, could not cure
His sickness. My affection also could
Not heal him since I was not quite like Christ.
But wait. If even Jesus wasn’t good
Enough to work the miracle, a tryst
With Him as useless as my heart
Held up for slicing any holy way,
This glory man might wish to set apart
My reverence. Both treated me as prey.
I held my heart out like a sacrifice.
Both he and God said it would not suffice.
~ Phillip Whidden