Omen of Grace

Often seen as unclean
Much mean
With razor-sharp words that seem to come through your beak.
In this world, it all means nothing.
A haven, seems to me, is coming.
Rest and hope you won’t notice
And maybe you’ll be taken so pure and so helpless, become the lotus.
Here we rest, and no vengeance is near
For you, having to explain.
You owe no one an omen of grace.