renewal, rewinding, passing onto the next road

June 25, 2011

I have missed writing. I want cranberry juice. Sleep, crown me with your glory. Knock me out with your caveman club, gentleman Sleep, disable me and drag me off to your deepest cave. I will go willingly. There is no coercion in this story. Give me your arms.


I turn to you again and again, looking for approval, for appreciation. You are my friend. But my heart hurts for you, a day-old ache, many days old against the bare pane of a window, nose pressed, snubbed, against the glass. It is cold. It hurts. You have hurt me, without knowing it. You cannot know. I have only hurt myself. It too will pass.

I love you in a muted fashion, because mutes are fashionable and blind men are always wise.

I love you because my heart is made for loving the broken and the lost and the blind, even those who are not wise.

I love you because I have a God who has made me to love, because I have a God who loves you more dearly still, dearer and harder yet.

I do not love you because I cannot have you (you are not mine) I do not love you because you are not mine

but I love you because you are my friend, you are mine to love

even though you are not, quite, wise.

May the God who is keep us both safe
and keep the snow from falling on my eyes.

love me, God who fills my ribs with lamplight
and my soul with sleep
and my words with laughter
and my thoughts with you.

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