A Thousand Times Forgiven || Poetry

Isaiah 43:25
“I, only I, am He who wipes out your transgressions for My own sake,
And I will not remember your sins.”

In the pit of my stomach
There lay a deep burden.
A hidden transgression,
One hard to suppress.

I dare not denounce,
But I need say no more.
The finale shall come,
My stained veil shall fall.

There is no secret
That stays long unseen.
Behind my painted smile,
Is my cowering shame.

I may seem strong
But the truth is I am weak.
I'm searching for help
Acceptance, I seek.

Time will come, I know.
Anxious, my heart waits, 
Tainted with contrite
For my true self to uncover.

Penitent was I, a thousand times more.
Forgiven was I, a thousand times before.
How long shall I dance in the sinner's ball?
Up and down, yet down I fall.

Apologies don't partner with repetition,
I should've known that by now.
But sin is embedded in my skin like tattoo
That only the blood of the Lamb can undo.

Jesus, tear off my crooked mask.
Gently break me piece by piece
To be filled with more of You. 
To be the woman You want me to be.

You see me as I am,
Broken, frail and weak.
A lost child stained in black,
Yet You still chose to love me.

You chose to forget my past
And forgive my sins completely.
You saw the real me inside,
The me I shall and will be.

I hid myself and You sought me.
I thought of my worries; You thought of me.
I ran away and You waited for me.
I came back dirty and You ran towards me.

How can it be, O merciful God
That You never run out of mercies?
How can Your love stretch out so wide,
For an underserving filth such as I?

I could hardly sleep with the voice of yesterday.
Echoing in my head, "sin, sin, sin."
I don't want to go back to where You found me.
I don't want to go back to where I've been.

Yet You tell me, "I have set You free,
Free from the chains that hold you."
Then why can I still feel its bitter ghost 
Slowly wrapping its arms around me?

I claim that I am dead to sin
But sin is not dead in a world so full of it.
There are demons that lay about 
Waiting to snatch its next victim.

So here I am once again kneeling in repentance.
"Forgive me, O Lord, a thousand times more!"
And in a gentle whisper You say,
"Forgiven, my child, a thousand times before."

- Mary France

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