Let this poem, be the poem that finally
swallows my ego,
where i have died a thousand and one
deaths, only to die again tomorrow,
Let this poem be the blade of judgment,
and bring back a compassionate plea,
blessed be the ointment of my soul,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
tears falling like monsoons out of season,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
broken like the alabaster box at the feet of Jesus,
and I will know how it feels to feel alive,
like the woman with the issued of blood,
twelve long years bleeding out
this single prayer,
and I will know this prayer sits at
the door, patiently waiting for me,
to come
home. Poet Krissy Mosley video created and spoken by me
Krissy Mosley Ministries 
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