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Nov

21

The Hammering Process

Posted by: mose

Posted in: Higher callings

This piece has been weighing on my heart lately. It was written by an e-quaintence from the old Project 86 message boards, Oni (Graham). The styling is rough and unprofessional. The meter doesn’t fit at times. I think that’s why I love it. It forgoes pretention for substance. It’s raw and it’s real. The piece itself is untitled, as far as I know (I’ve tried to find Graham a couple of times since 2001 when he showed this to me, but to no avail), so the title of this post was instead borrowed from a Living Sacrifice album. I hope they both sue me.

Eyes are as hot as the throat

Screams silence my own self

While tears sizzle and burn the layers away.

How much hate can a body hold for something?

How long until a force of sin pushes too far?

Can the Enemy overdo it?

Has the fallen pushed too hard on me?

It was so warm. I in Him and Him in me.

Nothing could tear Him away.

But what could tear me away?

The flies knew.

A chain of events well planned but poorly masked.

I stood facing the moon bewildered, only then realizing the newfound but familiar sound of shackles.

A woodworker shuffles His feet close behind me.

The knowledge of what was happening pounded at my chest, shattering my heart.

I looked at the Carpenter.

“Help,” Then the ground grew large fast.

But He wouldn’t allow me to crumble.

He grabbed me.

Used His hands to hold up a filthy animal.

Used His Light to change a filthy animal.

Used His Love to use the soldier.

I stood up on my new legs.

I had something to do.

I ran into the wilderness screaming.

There was someone who had to die.

I stopped under a hot black sky.

There was no moon.

I started to dig.

1 Foot

2 Foot

3

4

5

6

Done.

I let go.

I landed in the grave face first.

I could hear the soft patter of rain hitting the cracked soil above.

Pat pat became faster.

Pat pat pat became a solid roar.

Water began to fill my grave.

It tasted so good.

I looked into the pool of water waiting for my body to surface.

Nothing.

In the distance lightning lit up the horizon.

The outline of an occupied cross catches my eye.

I didn’t need to go closer.

I knew I hung on that cross.

With a tongue of fire from above, the cross was consumed and everything on it.

No more “Take this” and “Take that.”

This was take it ALL.

I am evil. All of me. Take it all and create a new creature.

Keep that cross. I don’t want it.

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