A Measure of Grace

I come to you the moment I return.
I've been away again -- away too long --
and half-spent tithes are all I have, or worse.

You see me on my knees, a clinging man,
embracing pasts I thought I'd left behind,
seeking solace in the arms from which I ran.

Once more, you take my sacrifice as whole --
as if you add a measure of your grace
to those whose need is greater than their soul.

In the quiet of the night, you touch my face
and every broken thing is put to right
beneath the feathers of your hands.