Holy War

We all see ghosts—at least do I.

They hang, sometimes, inside the mind

the vision spots: fractured slits

of broke morality

They linger in the memory

and sometimes make their presence known

to tempt or tease or taunt.

They are because we put them there

and loved them—once—from deep inside

and gave too much of vital life

for them to disappear.

Banished lovers, wandering

but living still inside our town

and showing up just when and where

they’ve found a place to haunt.

And sometimes (only with our choice)

they live more real…like long before

and carry captive every thought

to their obedience.

Fed on dread the ghosts now dead

lurch to life inside our lusts

and prove to strong for us to fight

and seek to throne their vaunt.

Come Great King, renew Your claim

O’er all your wretched wrong-ful realm.

Break through walls indifferent

in sunshine on our souls.

We love, we falter, still will pine

to love as He who wavers not

but wars to cleanse the dearth and rot

and Lord our hearts to holy want.

Photo by Ray Bilcliff, pexels.com

2 thoughts on “Holy War

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