WHEAT FROM CHAFF

WHEAT FROM CHAFF

I beg of you to look at me,
With blinders on and glasses off.

To burrow past a frozen face
And joints as stiff as ratchets.

To tunnel deep beneath the shakes,
The tremors of my limbs,

The sharpness of my tongue at times
When desperation visits.

And I promise in return to live
As if I were your champion,

To let your barbs dissolve and fade,
Your arrows toss and tumble.

To cast my vision wider,
To embrace a fuller picture,
To see the fine nobility
Obscured beneath your foibles.

To weigh your grand against the petty
And to give your grand the upper hand,

To train my eyes to find the diamonds
Buried in your rough.

To cherish in a dream divine
Your shiny actions gleaming.

To drop the grudges lurking deep
In a black heart's dark recesses.

Like Ruth within the pages 
Of a long-lost nightstand Bible,

I long to follow in your path
And separate the wheat from chaff. 

For in the end when clay dissolves
And all that's left are ashes,

Grace is all that's left behind
And mercy all that matters.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2014
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED