fourth tuesday of advent

Come, if you will, on a Friday night,
whether or not I am paying attention.
Break me from my reverie,
rend earth from sea and sea from salt.
Separate the self and shame
showing them two not one,
then name me - the better half -
after yourself, the Son.
Come, if you will, in any form.
Preferably not that of a woman,
lest in my pride I pretend to understand you.
Lion or lamb you have been.
And as man I have loved you
both less and more than I ought -
for love is not an easy word.
Child and criminal the same,
your Spirit a dove and a flame,
water and light and the breath of life,
barefoot, berobed, bejeweled, begot.
Come if you will, appear as you ought -
only stop me in my tracks.
Still the cycle. Break the back of the beast.
Release the wolf from my mind.
Temper the time.
And whether or not it kill me,
show me your face -
swallow me like a seed into your breast
or your belly.
Bury and carry me, embryonic,
with or without rebirth -
only Come.

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window in the sub

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A Single Layer

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