I looked out my frosted window one wintry morning
And went outside to see several silvery threaded snowflakes
Graced in satin slippers fall noiselessly
On a heart blacker than soot.
It’s proclaimed scarlet sins can be scoured whiter
Than the purest snow
Than the brightest wool.
“Whosoever will may come.”
So I snapped a self-portrait, crimson and all
And held it up to the sky.
I COME.