God's Tarnished Knight

A repost of a very, very old poem of mine. Sadly (or gladly with most Divine gladness, depending on how you look at it) this one never goes out of style.

God's Tarnished Knight

 

O Lord, Good Lord, I beg you turn your eye

And pour out yet again your Precious Blood

On me, your tarnished, fallen knight, for here I lie,

Wounded, trampled, crushed and smeared with mud,

But not, O Lord, Good Lord, a valiant hero, I.

 

These wounds I got, not in honorable brawl,

In noble triumph, nor in glorious defeat

But I quit my post, O Lord. I did not fall.

I stooped, laid down. I wasn’t on my feet

But on my back. I didn’t fight, I crawled.

 

And now I lie and grovel on the field

As if by further absence from my post

I might, somehow, pretend I didn’t yield.

I beg you, Lord, whom I have injured most

Forgive me, and restore to me my shield.

 

Without a word of blame you now renew

My strength, and raise me from the dirt

And every wound of mine appears on you.

You set me back at my post, as every hurt

I brought upon myself, I bring on you.

 

 

You lie down in my place upon the ground

And gaze at me, as a hundred demons lash

Your innocent flesh. They gibber as they pound

And kick you around the field like so much trash,

And all the while you love me without a sound.

 

How dare I ask forgiveness?! I have no right!

 And yet how dare I not, since you command?

I may not shirk your mercy, nor the fight,

In vain humility. So here I stand,

No hero, Lord, but just your tarnished knight.