"Isaiah 61" by Emily Smith

Ashes.
We all
Fall
Down.
Ashes are all I’ve got,
Nothing else to offer.
Beauty.
Beyond my grasp
Beyond my comprehension
Beyond
Me.
I break beauty
I make beauty mine
And by possessing it,
Kill it.
You are beauty
Whole.
Real.
And you look on my ashes,
The ruins of beauty,
All that is left,
And weep.
I break things. It’s what I do.
Ash consumes everything else,
Making everything into nothing.
I kneel in the dust,
Mourning, mourning.

Morning.
You’re here, bearing beauty
And love.
I am terrified
Terrified of my capabilities
My preference is to sit in
Brokenness,
Where there is nothing else left
To break.
But you wrap yourself around
Me.
I grasp hold of my ashes
Or are they holding onto me?
I long for beauty,
But I can’t have both
Beauty and ashes.
And then, you’ve taken them
My ashes are gone
And in their place, beauty
My mourning fades
Replaced by
Resounding
Reveling
Praise.

Morning.