Ugly as Sin

twisted and grotesque
ugly as sin
miserable as the day is long
and, believe me, Sister, it is long

but sometimes She fills me through with Her light
Her light that is like wings made of panes of glass and late afternoon sun
never mind the long shadows

I have known such ecstasy
I should never forget that
but I do
I do forget it, I mean

I am the color of leaves on the trees illuminated by street lamps in summer
I am the color of an ocean that thinks it is the sky
I am the color of sapphires and diamonds
and of the scratched steel of dented dog tags
dented like so many mess hall or mental institution soup spoons
but I still wear them
because I'm not done fighting yet

I am the color of the light in November
yellow and brief and swirling with tinsel
and as the snow falls through the thin yet palpable sunlight, I realize
I am not ugly as sin
the world is not ugly as sin
She wants so desperately to tell me, to show me...

and then, I feel nothing
and then, I am buried


She wants so desperately to tell me, to show me...
that I needn't let my past mistakes bury me
that I'm not dead

She wants so desperately to tell me, to show me...
that She is me
that She is inside me
that She lives within me
that She is me
She is everything beautiful, alive, and light

as am I
even at my ugliest
because sometimes that's where the fight takes me
and the fight is probably the most beautiful thing of all