I hold dreams made of iron
that tip my spear of regret—
I thrust at the side of Christ
I am washed by his blood
I bathe in the splendor of the savior,
I am blinded by his Kingdom
I am now clean! O Glory to God
I bloom like a thousand carnations
like a snake I shed my sinful skin
emerging a flawless tongue of flame.
I like the premise, the structure,the rhythm, and the play on A in the last three stanzas.*
A curious mix of metaphors. Leaps from aspiration to sensuality... a vice-versa salvation.