Wrighteous Wrens

Darling hatched from fragile stone 
chirping nakedly in your infancy; 
you will not be a suitable daughter. 
You will not be angelic or saintly 
as you barely raise a pious wing.

I admit in an act of arrogance 
that I am what litany has made us. 
Men are unsettled in understanding.

Ruler of the sky, I bring peace 
by offering You helplessness 
taken shape in a dear hatchling. 
Bearing witness by Your grace 
that permisses me to release 
from my talons, an ugly godly fate.