These Broken Thrones

She’s a deceiver, 

two-faced: 
lying-on-the-double 
and she likes it that way. 

Yeah she thinks she’s alone,
doesn’t mind that but what she DOESN’T know
is when He looks at her heart
what He sees is a throne.

Every night looking at the stars,
rubbing cream into her scars,
the sky above’s some pretty art,
it’s kinda smart like that but

What she DOESN’T know
about this masterpiece
is that looking, loving down back at her
is the artist: the Maker and the Lover.

the Author.
the Live-er.
the Fighter.
the Giver.
the Painter.
the Singer.
the Planet-In-His-Palm-Spinner.

The life that’s
her killer,
is killing the one that the life was for her given:
and she’s driven
to ruin her canvas-body:
she’s making a masterpiece of her own
but He refuses to leave her, His broken throne.

A beautiful monster,
that’s what she is:  
and this
monstrous beauty
makes it difficult to look at
her arms
her thighs
her heart
and her eyes:
they despise,
but what she DOESN’T know
is that He’s seen her heart
and He’s been in her eyes
He’s loved her soul
now she’s clean, no surprise –

Because the one that knit
her together in the womb
won’t leave her for dead:
he’s broken open the tomb.
And the one that counts
the stars in the sky
and who names each one
will lift her high.  
Yes the one that mends
the broken hearts
will put back together
all her broken parts.
The one that loved
the young and the old
the white and the black
the scared and the bold;
The one who tends
to the birds in the air
will be waiting for her
when he meets her there.

The one that made
her pain his very own,
will look past all those scars
because her heart is His throne.