So, I am rereading Yancey’s What’s So Amazing about Grace? As I was reading, I a poem begged writing.
Simply entitled, “Ungrace”
A smile fades
hugging arms retract
healing waters recede
what is this place?
the ground is cracked from lack of moisture; the sun burns through your clothes
sobs are not muffled
eyes that pierce do it lingeringly
this is Ungrace.
west of Condemnation, east of Judgment.
Ungrace. A constantly buzzing metropolis. Wanderers who enter rarely leave, they are stuck,
only to die, alone
tourism is the main venue in the city. Visitors are able to taste bitterness, feel depravity, smell lust,
and see all sorts of heinous behavior.
no one is welcome, but almost all come.
if you escape, you are the lucky one.
ars97 