Lord–
I never asked
for an explanation.

Broken, raw
torn open
strafed with glass from without,
nails from within.

Alone, blind, like a child
Yet still, in the dark,
I pushed–
or You pulled.

For there is
a rock bottom of the soul
where, all else torn away,
experience yields to existence.

And against that
gleaming glass sea
I darkly see my face
and Yours

and,
indestructible,
I rise.