untitled {Oct 2007}

I often walk
with a shell on. Leave me be, I say,
adore only what I have facepainted
on

I never wanted to live
this way. To be free seems
like a commodity I can't afford.

I can't afford this love either.
This love that chases, wraps itself
around my heart;
the Love that is You.

I can't afford to be changed by it,
To quit backflipping, cartwheeling,
somersaulting around what I am
thirsty for,
and to take a drink.

Can I really sit at the table?
Can I lay here, let the rays of the sun
warm my frozen heart?
Can I really walk, live, breathe
with no shell on?

Your love breaks me.
It shatters me to pieces.
It frustrates me.

(Where are You, nameless One?
Sing to me; I find it hard to keep the melody
on days like this)

And then You send a love note, a postcard,
a warm bench,
a bumble bee (what a bother).
A long hug, a singing sparrow,
a blackberry bush, a friend.

Maybe You are here.
And holding on for me, when my
strength is gone.
Maybe there is no brick wall
between me and Your love.

(Here You are, and here I am,
ready to take off my shell,
sit at the table,
lay my heart down;

Here I am)