BY BESORAH WON
Yeah, she knows what it means to be rejected. Hell, even God rejected her.
Side stares and whispers down the aisles at church,
With dumbed-down baby language, they speak to her in coos.
Fear and pity, the lens of believers.
Ignorance a defense? Please,
She’s heard better.
They think she’s silly, they mouth over her head (she doesn’t understand)
Her cries to the Lord, such cute gibberishasdflkasdfj,
Awwwwww, let her be.
Mangled, burned, and scarred; Madness in mind, deception inside,
Critters of genetics gnaw at her spine.
But is this the place for the foot, for the hand, for the missing hand?
If he is the eye, and they are the body…
Well, she read the ad in the Book, she thought she was invited,
Where do the cracked pots go, Sir?
What part of the body… the body, the body of Christ?
Genetics. Eugenics. Genocide of the sexless.
Home is no home when body is nobody.
Predestination, sovereignty, error of God?
Blame my father, my mother, the sin of some other?
Yes sometimes no, sometimes glory to show
Samson his eyes, Jacob, touch of a hip
Opened her eyes to the descendents of – men waiting, hoping, seeking water to stir
Mud, trees, and rivers, miracle garments to touch – Christ.
Will and desire, purpose and grace
Loving, merciful Creator and Savior.
Rejected by man, though the man became man,
Damnation in genes? Genealogy preaches better, better
Better the body, than soul to burn forever
And ever be glory when heard that
Fearfully wonderfully, in precision made,
She is part of the body, the body, the body of Christ.
For the inheritor and beloved child of God.