Am I bulldog tenacious,
holding on to Your damaan
in my faithful querying
the truth of Your claims,
Your promise, Your status?
Or, are You the bulldog?
Your jaws never loosening,
not a moment's respite
in the teeth of Your love,
love's foment and agitation
bursting at the seams, rising to the surface
at every odd and fortuitous angle,
dragging me where You will, where I will
take in, at last, the rich and charnel breeze,
open my decaying chest to absorb
Your immortal answer
to the haunting, harrowing, pitiless question
Your presence has provoked in me.
O child of God, you follow your Beloved
but all you really want, is to go back to sleep.