Holy Amazing Grace

There is always the sunrise
To make me feel new
Without lies or deceit
Burning into
The man who allowed
Himself to become a pin
And a hole which the sun
Could blast rays through.

When I am drowned in dirt
Protected by cedar
Or set ablaze and freed with the wind
Or on a mantle piece anticipating just that
I will be free.

Am I freed now? Of course
Somehow someway chemicals,
Carry remorse
Not to say to feel sorry,
But to stand up and thank holy amazing grace
For this time, this setting, this place.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.