Full flower
To become perfect, said Jesus,
leave all and follow Me
and the young man went away sad
for he had many possessions.
I am saddened also by the great wealth
of fear I refuse to leave behind.
But I do not go away.
I trail my Lord
from a safe distance carrying my bundles with me.
Just love Me, says my Lord,
turning to me every now and then.
I don’t quite grasp His meaning but I cannot
let Him go without me into the yonder hills.
My will is bent toward Him
(whether I bent it that way or did He)
and I pray my bruising, ironclad resolve
is but a rudimentary form of love, a seed perhaps,
which in some distant lifetime hence
shall come into full flower.
O child of God, how might your Lord be embraced
without dropping everything else you hold dear?
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