Poem: “Seated at the right hand”

When you finally gained the strength or courage to roll back the stone that had kept me dead to you for three days or years

(I’m not sure) I was missing or hiding from our love

and the bandages that covered my emotional wounds

were not folded neatly because they were still

draped from my head and limbs and fluttered

and whipped during my ascension and ignited

and burned during re-entry peeling away

damaged skin and the pain and despair

of my shame and your disappointment

so that I can once again be

pure and whole and strong

and once again can

claim my seat at

the right hand

of you

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2 responses to “Poem: “Seated at the right hand””

  1. Wow. Torn.
    There’s something so poignant about “. . .the right hand of you.”

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