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Dust

back-dust-in-the-air-19068I am from the dust, O Lord,
and destined to return to it.
My bones are jutting out of joint
because I have despised your law,
and strained my neck against the yoke,
and wrestled with a darkened mind
that spurns unearned love.
I have utterly turned away from you
and nursed the cup of calamity.
Yet seeing my misshapen form
and burning with affection,
you drink my poison to the dregs
and lie down in the dust
that I am made of.
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