Once Too Many Times
by Michael Doyle

You there, who do so wrong
It's me here, telling you that you don't belong
Pointing at your mistake with my finger
That is, until, I notice the smell lingers

And it is myself who is wicked
Stinking in my skin like a sticky wicket
It is then that it becomes clear
My profession of Christianity doesn't persevere

That's been true one too many times
Even in my unrefined peasant rhymes
When I point out someone else's mistakes
While keeping to myself, my own heartbreaks

May I become purified in the Lord's fire
Separating the chafe from the wheat of my desires
I dare not separate myself in the gap
Knowing this does not the Lord's gracious tap

But a simple look into the mirror at me
And acknowledging the failed possibility
Quietly, I accept the rebuke of the Lord's correction
Returning my life toward the right direction

Giving back robes of royalty for garb of peasant
Living my life in the Lord's true presence
The pure church is one of the greatest power
And the one I wish to worship within in every hour

(c) May 12, 2021  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved