reading my old words and thinking they could be new words.

i don't stop making messes,
don't stop needing grace.
this is my honest soul,
all mixed up and on display.

that's all i have, the silence of my voice and the humble lowering of my head.

i know, you have no reason to love me. i know, i've messed it up.
but, also, the whisper,
i am thankful you aren't the accuser.  i am so very thankful.