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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