Tumbler

Simple mind I must have had--
No sweet-smelling-soap-scoured
Sunday-school lesson let me know--
I swear the process had begun before,
or, by God, I’d not have asked.
I did not nurture all those years
this proud high point, this cutting ridge,
to have it knocked to hell against
the tine of another fool’s rock heart.
How in the churn of sand and water
will I hope to endure, my God,
this juggernaut, this bash and crack,
this relentless grind of grace.