She is not anchored here.
She’s still drifting on restless waves.
Still casting nets into empty seas.
She washes in the river,
Knows that people like her can never be holy,
People like her can never be clean.
But it’s all she’s ever wanted.
She knows she’ll never walk on water.
Mustard seeds are boulders to her faith.
She can’t find any figs in her leaving.
Knows it’s a long road to Salvation,
But she’s on the short path to Hell.
It’s what they tell her.
It’s what they’ve always told her.
I know I am not anchored here.
I’m still sailing through these restless waves
This net is coming up empty;
There are no fish in these seas.
I know I’ll never be holy.
I’ll never be worthy of your cup.
But one day I will know love,
Broken and imperfect,
And it won’t be from your tree.
I am sorry,
You will never be my Calvary.
I will never see you ascending up.
You will always be the nails in me,
But I will always come down from your cross.
Let me walk sky prone and lonely;
Feet tap-dancing on the clouds.
I’m tired of trying to learn your two-step.
Tired of trying to keep up.
I no longer want to be worthy
Of all that pain in your cup.