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Poetry

When I Was Saved

When I was saved,

Jesus did not take me in His arms.

He trampled me under His feet,

a death befitting his greatest enemy.

 

When I was saved,

Christ did not wash me clean with His blood.

He smashed every bone of truth in my body–

everything hard, rigid and brittle–

until I ran like holy wine beneath His soles,

absorbed into the dirt firmament of Heaven

(for I was no longer there to call the earth anything but Heaven).

 

When I was saved,

there was no more “I” to be saved.

Only I AM remained.

 

Everything beautiful started then.

About Waldo Noesta

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