… it all shifts, my heart's
in my throat, and nothing is
what it seemed. Fool.
Tiny resurrections
Pursuit invites a
whisper-thin restoration to
begin in my heart.
Onward He says
Your metronome tracks
my uncertain heart's forward tap;
sacred beat keeper.
In which I realize no one needs me to save them ...
God is able. I'm
just one of the rescued,
not the rescuer.
The pull.
Caught in the flux of
fully embracing you ...
or withdrawing myself.
The inglorious middle
I choose to remain
here, embracing my not-yet
status. Limp, learn, wait.
What I heard in your cautions ...
You make sense, but my
faulty heart clings to "I look
forward to your texts."
Can I tell you a secret?
Is it okay to
admit life is more with you?
Significant. Nice.
Feast
Simple ingredients
feed souls: curiosity,
delight. Even mine.
I look at it head on.
Clapping to wake me
a song of devastation
moves through. Blink once. Nod.