16.  A Tiny Bit of New

I get a tiny bit of new in me,

and it takes root like a mustard seed,

or the opposite of everything

You've taught me.

And when its flicker turns to fade,

And the world is colored jade,

I'm aware of sin's thin skin

and the vessels pulse beneath me.

If You could prod them rough,

Till my heart was dull and scuffed,

I knew You wouldn't even try

because of who You are

and were

and will be.

So now I sit, the new scrubbed dull,

And blink against my burning skull

And walk back to where You are

And where my feet could

and would

and should be.