Seven times...

Seven times a righteous man failed,

But he soon rose up again,

Several times this wicked man wailed,

Will you pick me up again?

Oh! On your wounds I perched as a leech,

Satisfaction in sin never did I reach ,

I knew what I was choosing

And your blood kept on oozing

The hammer in my hand

Seemed to be a magical wand ,

With each blow on your hand and your feet

My sins blotted, I became clean and so neat.

With a guilty heart I used to call,

Each time promising not to fall.

"Will I ever change?" I kept on pondering,

A thought which haunted and kept on bothering.

This time too, Lord I come to my knees with no excuse

Will you please pick me up Father and graciously reuse?

Written by Paul Choppara. This poem was placed second in the April Writing Contest on the theme: Grace. The poet comes from Kolkata - the city of Joy and presently pursuing his Bachelors in Social Work.