The Scripture was reading me

The Scripture was reading me,

tripping sensibilities flat on their faces,

upending understanding, biases,

cultural expectations, uncovering

discomfort, anger, perplexing

my confirmations all because it

wouldn’t tell me what I wanted,

what I expected to and demanded to want,

confounding my tightly constructions,

my view, my line of sight, casting

a light on the interior shadows,

launching an attack on what previously

been an impregnable fortress, or so

I believed. Seven times the Scripture

read me, until with a shout

the walls collapsed.

Photograph by Alex Grichenko via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.