A Conversation with God

I am unclean
I am a tax collector
I am a Pharisee

Stress flashes at me
Like a lightning bolt
And my eyes fall to the well-trodden floor.

Silence wraps around me
Like a leopard print ‘Snuggie’

Calming my ruffled
Emerald Peacock feathers.
My pride settles down
To a good Cuppa Joe.

I flex my spiritual muscles
To get down to brass tax.
My approach to the Lord
Is slow and deliberate

In preparation of my
Dose of Humble Pie.

As I lay my transgressions
At the feet of my Savior
He washes the black soot
From my soul.

I am clean
I am forgiven
I am redeemed in His everlasting Grace.