I will kiss myself in the name of the Lord, I will
ask open-handed and allow the voice at the door
in the unknown hour of night into my throne so that I
may receive.
My son, my love and I will hold hands in the gale,
we will form a ring and shout and laugh
and run round each other, with each other, to each other.
This is our year of plenty, of wilderness and home,
of light thought.
We come from one another, we will not fold
unless to Truth. We show our glinting mystery
to the vastness and, still, are more
than it can take.
This is so much that I have held, so much I have held away,
it would be sin, now, to place it anywhere but here on the pedestal.
I’m here too, screaming, crying, smiling, kneeling,
confessing the red ruthlessness of my whole being and oh my God,
I love this and don’t understand it.
I love me so much, I love you, Sam and baby boy, yes!
I love this world (but I am confused),
the whole world, the one in his hands, so much.
I am not done.
