Divine Disruption (Poetry) by Priscilla Ozioma Egbo

 

Grace crashes in like lightning through glass,
While we count our merits, pretending they'll last.
Heaven's wild mercy breaks all of our rules,
Making saints from sinners, kings out of fools.

We've tattooed our failures across battle-worn skin,
While Christ writes forgiveness where shame once has been
This time, not on the flickers of our dust framed flesh
But in the tables of a heart made fresh.

A lot of times I imagine
That though I want to fly like a butterfly
Into the haven of heavenly promises prepared me,
I find the scary fists of a corrupting past
Holding me in suppression.

Dull yesterdays, pleasure-ridden feasts,
And thoughtless toying with sin’s Greek gifts,
Have made my earlier years taste like bitter cola
And make being an heir of a superior Kingly heritage,
Less and less appealing to my age.

Oh, confused soul!
What seekest thou?
For I am trapped betwixt the labyrinth
Of feasting at tables where angels fear to tread
Or stumbling drunk on a love that’s divine.

A religious performer I was, with scripts well-rehearsed,
Until grace, like an exquisite earthquake,
Suddenly broke into the seeming impregnable walls of my life,
My ending beginning to rewrite,
Putting last what was first.
 
Broken and bare at the foot of the cross I lay,
The weight of His glory should crush mortal frames
Yet somehow, we stand, reborn in His name.
Partakers of mystery too vast to contain,
Finding freedom in surrender, and strength through our pain

So come to the table, all ye battered and bruised,
Even if with thee comes nothing but an alabaster box of a wasted life,
For the feast isn't earned through our deeds or might,
But freely bestowed on those who desire a better country
Whose Ruler and Maker is God.