What It Means To Be God’s Chosen

For three days forever my eyes were dimmed
And coldness blisters every word I say
Over Moriah, no whispers came from wind
Laughter for the birth but Silence today
 
Iron bound for the heart of the bound
Trembling worsening, blood frozen
And I wondered aloud without a sound
What it means to be God’s chosen
 
O faith, felicity is no sister to you
Sorrow predicates God’s predilection 
And every martyr after glories unto
He who resigned before the Resurrection
 
For three days forever I walked slow the way
My prayers were folded, frightfully rosen
Lord, my hand might lose its skill this day
Yet reprieve comes not for God’s chosen
 
O faith, the perfection of surrender
I practice not eternity nor understand
Sea-smoked mountains of specious splendor
Nor the name of the angel to stay my hand
 
In comfort, in horror, in the gift of soil
Where milk and honey forever flows in
Like dew of dry eyes, like spikenard oil
What it should mean to be God’s chosen
 
I admit I considered not what it means to be God’s chosen
I regret I knew not what it means to be God’s chosen —