"In Albanian the word for 'relationship' means 'take and give'"
--- I would like to rush out of this need to be helped, I would like to be able to do things myself, Independence is enticing, But self-sufficiency in reality is a cold cage of mirrors, Separating me from the healing touch of friendship. Disenchantment, disassociation from breath and skin, From the body I live in as but one member, From my weakness, From my brother who is as real as I am, Is a coldness that will kill me kindly like hypothermia. It is warmth and uncomfortable closeness, Unhiddenness and the friction Of standing face to face That sparks a fire to keep us warm together, That reminds me I am not my own, I belong to another. Taking his hand offered to me is a death, too, A crucifixion of my self-righteousness, A full surrender and a silence, And then, in all its messiness, a birth again, Spirit, water, and blood all testifying of newness. Dimly I begin to see as I learn how to walk again, As he teaches me how to name things, How to listen to learn The language love speaks gently to every part Of this body he formed intentionally for his glory. He doesn't count slowness as I do, impatiently, Nor does he hurry past pain, He remains Faithful and true to the brokenhearted, With his grave-clothes binding up their wounds. Comments are closed.
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AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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