The Middle One

Walking down the road to damascus, I call my home
I distract myself with skin and bone when the spirit is alone
you have bought me with a currency that exchanges for the death of me
and I would ever readily go blind again so I can see
the light that shines from your body is not at all too bright for me,
but not so dull that I sit in the dark
my sins have come to reconcile, my darkness lays within a pile
you burn it all again with holy water
you change my name to abraham, the syllables are symbols
that I may never own this land, but I still have a home
and love and joy aren’t far away and though their arrows ruined me
a fall could help me land softly into a bed of grace
where I return back to the piles of dirt that I came from before it hurt
and wonder how my rib could make her walk
but you have led me through the sea and closed it on my enemies
yet somehow I can’t find the words to talk
and as I walk, I will see that I was never wandering
my steps will fall in line with something bigger than me
as I grow taller, I grow weaker
the rain will beat my pedals down until I’m stronger