Life breaks me open.
The I am must be known.
Too quiet is this solitude.
Thoughts yearn to speak,
but image meaning
in my world alone,
where all in quiet waits,
clear as star straked sky,
all questing answered
in compassionate reply,
snowflakes of forgiveness
that slake the coals of rage.
*
Know me God. I live.
Conserve what truth is me.
Enfold me. Hold me.
Let anguish steal away,
with blessing part,
for sorrow, my old friend
cannot but be missed.
What will keep me then,
when sadness slips away?
Grief has been my constant,
my anchor, and my stay.
*
And yet…
*
Is there an Advent halo
circling my heart?
Breath of baby Jesus?
Blessings from a byre?
Caress of maiden mother
smoothing silken brow?
All reach across the aching years
and bid me also laugh and live.
*
It must be bells of Christmas ringing,
tolling out my name,
mythos cast from melt of years,
happiness distilled from tears.
morethanenoughtruth 