Croupiers

Croupiers                                                                                             
 
I used to ask for purity and absolution.
Now, I say, “Take me as I am.”
 
Rotten wood burns just as hot
in Your furnace as seasoned oak.
 
People judge this cold exterior.
They can’t see my seared heart.
 
It’s a secret I keep with my Beloved.
I only mention it now
 
because I’m no longer responsible
for what’s written in these poems.
 
I used to punish myself . . .
to save You the trouble.
 
It’s no trouble, You assured me.
The scales of karma are self-correcting;
 
bets are placed, wheels spin,
the croupiers keep perfect tally. 
 
Arrogant, foolish and futile are attempts
to add or take away from the sum total.
 
O child of God, longing purifies the lover.
The roar of its flames drowns out the world’s calling.

                               (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)