Purified

Beautiful Bride

By: Elaina Grace Morgan

Tattered and broken,
Dirty and torn,
Crying and weeping, she shed the dress she had once worn.
She had come so far, so far from her past,
far from the lusts she knew wouldn't last.
Searching and hurting,
Lost and weak.
She had no idea what she had seeked.
Was it love, was it care?
Was it happiness? Cheer?
It was deliverance from all of her fear.
The fear of confession,
She was impure.
Fear of depression which she was uncured.
Her questions were answered after all of these years.
Down on her knees,
Emotions up and down like waves in the sea.
There she knelt.
There she had confessed all that she had felt.
"Forgive me for I have sinned," she cried.
"Fear not my love. Your tears I have dried," came the reply.
"Here is something beautiful and new."
A deep breath in she had once drew.
It was the prettiest sight, relief from this fight.
A dress the brightest of whites.
Prettier than couture.
It was purity,
A prettier picture.