Sweet Smell of sacrifice

I set fire to the incense of my self before Your altar.

Singe away my sins.
May the smoke of my shortcomings
rise rise rise
to your skies,
your shrine,
all inside.

Oh, how I wish I had something more with which to adorn your throne,
but alas, any good I am
and hope I have
is already Yours.
Leaving me with only my faults and fears to offer you.

I pray, accept my humble sacrifice,
take my mortal mistakes and make of them something more
until the day comes on which the spices of my spirit cease
burning and I have no more matter left to burn
and all that remains
is the sweet smell of what was once solid.
The sweet smell of what was once my self.

Hannah Arin is a junior at Pitzer College pursuing a double major in religious studies and philosophy.