On a River in a Valley

Morn after morn
the sun comes blood red
over the mount
to the Valley of Trouble,
Muddy and turbid.

Lamb after lamb -
You break its neck, and it breaks your knees
to stand in the land with your hands
Covered in blood of the innocent dead.
The acid stains eat at your peace,
Feast at your peace with God,
and burn up your skin
into festering sores.

What hope is there
for the leprous soul,
the adulterous soul,
the traitor of God?

Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.”

The blood of the Son flows in rivers of red,
as He drowns in the wrath of God.
His heart is spilling,
Dousing the sinning in
Cleansing blood.
He rises and
the Valley of Achor
is a door of Hope.

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