Chapter and Verse

The strength to walk away is like a gift
of snakes or stones bestowed on any child
who asks for fish or bread.  The pillars shift;
Delilah’s shears were never so defiled
as when you walked away with every word
of faith, with every psalm I ever wrote.
I built on sandy ground, my sight obscured
by every solid beam and dusty mote.
You kissed me for a bag of silver coins
before you knew which prophets I believed.
You tied a girdle firmly ’round your loins;
immaculate, you left, and then conceived.
You’re wise to build your house on solid ground,
and I’m the sheep that’s lost and never found.

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