You wear your anger well and stand

For all the world to see

A heavy cloak and one gloved hand

And no humility



You stand inside the garden

And feast on black cherries

And swallow the manna from heaven

And spit out the seeds



You spread your anger on sharp-edged knives

Cut my skin and make it bleed

Like Pilate in his self-righteousness

You're a traitor and a thief



Choking on your unplanned words

Coughing up your lies

Tumbling from your mouth a flurry

Of broken butterflies



But the blood that flows I cannot hide

That blood that covers me

Nourishes the butterflies

And they are healed and are set free



I wish you had what Ruth possessed

But then I don't expect that of you

Grace and honor and faithfulness

And the love that you refuse



Will you ever learn to just forgive

Will you open your beautiful eyes

And bleed the way Christ did

And fix the broken butterflies