The Lord's Fountain

In the capsule of my neglected soul,

I wade through a puddle

of brackish water darker than my past,

thick with the bloodless remains

of mosquitos and broken memories.

The Lord guides me through the sewers of society,

He yanks the veil from truth,

leaves the mask of deceit prostrate,

its interior exposed like an atoll

sullied by the polluted tide.

But life flows from a wellspring of hope,

its shower is a tonic that leaves me unstained - 

He steps into my soggy front yard

and deposits his heart

deep inside the fertile soil of my faith.