Lot

I am the soul that wanders from home.
I’m the one who brought on the cancer in my bones.
I was the rebel who killed the mighty King.
Estranged with a kiss: in my head, I still hear it ring.

My mouth thirsts because I hated.
I made myself alone. From love: separated.
Shivering and stumbling from the fear I’d caused;
my lying heart and the dark got me lost.

This isn’t the place I belong, though it’s the one I deserve.
There must be something true in the longing I reserve.
Why do I run to my accuser for love, a slave of this age?
Fatally flawed, I cried, “Is there someone who can save?”

Looking at my reflection, resting in the water, I felt a ripple.
In scarlet red, not armor, but the blood I was to shed was the Prince I’d crippled.
He is risen! Could it be that my past is dead, that I’m free and home?
I was the war criminal who was reconciled even after I’d roamed.