A
tender child
The
great fear of death was once for me
the
end of self. Now it’s the resurrection,
again
and again, from the fields of stone
towards
a conscription into battle
where
the enemy is always myself.
Another lifetime beginning
from scratch,
far from heaven, a tender
child to face anew
the test of mettle, the
suffering of desires
(met or unmet), to don yet
another false suit
of congeniality and
compliance while living
covertly under the compulsion
of human
ignorance, isolation,
cowardice and sin.
O child of God, the deeper
your renunciation,
the nearer you are to His
open arms.
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