by Peter Lilly

Season my perception with your psalter
That I might linger within naked feeling,
Not deny omnipotence in concealing
rather, rend my garments at your altar,
Not just feel my rage in fisted toes,
But speak it out without polite restraint
Or the need to pretend to be a saint,
Just a flickering hope within the lows.
Preserve and flavour my flesh in being
raw, that I might see the raging anger,
That I might perceive in thy love, the danger
Of being known by one fully seeing,
And yet safe despite my feet that falter.
Season my perception with your psalter.

Peter Lilly is a British Poet who grew up in Gloucester before spending eight years in London studying theology and working with the homeless. He now lives in the South of France with his wife and son, where he concentrates on writing, teaching English, and creative expressions of church. His work has been published in a number of journals including Macrina Magazine, Across the Margin, Radix Magazine, and the 2018 Anthology ‘Please Hear What I’m Not Saying.’

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