An Ignoble Penance

We wander through a sea of waning truths.
A faithful girdle smashed and dying did,
Once in those distant years, hold Christ, forbid
The throngs of sinful men, of damnèd youths.
It lies in pieces, broken, foreign now
To those who grow, who birth, and now are born.
We yearn to see a great repair but mourn
And fail to rest our Saviour's tired brow.
I strode between those saving words of Grace,
Compassion, Love and those that split my heart;
I bled but filled it with those Godless sighs.
I cannot bear to see my Maker's face
Nor feel His arms where once we'd been apart;
But I repent and, shamef'lly, meet His eyes.