The bread was stale the circus naught

When I walked in through the door

None but crumbs, no parade sought

All of my names learnt to deplore

 

The moment I entered the room

As a beggar meets with thieves

I knew I entered my tomb

Accompanied by rotting leaves

 

All I could hear in reflection

Echoes; my own breath and sigh

No amusement, inflection

Words in the still air tumbled by

 

If I could speak then numbness left

And surely my tongue was weak

As one finds before a cleft

They can’t be rescued from its peak

 

What kind of place did I walk in

What escape from the outside

This room locks from end to end

No fresh air, though that is implied

 

Who but myself could blame the dark

For stumbling rocks it conceals

When light traveled far to park

As I drove on with quickened heels

 

Blame not boiling water I dump

Drenching peeling blistered skin

How hard to swallow the lump

That shows me the black of my sin

 

I pray solely Scripture’s wisdom

I alone hold not the key

Deep the well in the kingdom

To drink the light of Christ in me

 

Sin’s casket appears far too quick

God’s judgment burns each splinter

My candle holds but one wick

By grace it warms through this winter