My God, my God, why haven’t you 
forsaken me? Could you not 
spare that grace? Why refute my flight 
and hound an ass who today bears your name 
and tomorrow kicks it back? 

Your ghost spooks my every escape, 
lures me home to altar’s pestle and sieve. 
Your grip gathers shards to slice a son’s 
prayer and bloody the best intentions.

Mind how you end and mend me. 
Remember prodigal robes rift even 
when stitched seamless. Reject 
hell’s wager on an outlaw’s vows. 
For your sake, save us both this disgrace, 
the refrain you buy every time:

your paradise promise
to my choked hallelujah.