When I was very young
my consolation was, The Love.
The love that concealed me.
Walking home alone,
I sang my chant inside my head,
while the other children ****** me.
And Jesus was my brother,
crooning to me in my heart,
when my father's fingers wounded me.
And yet, The Love, shot through the pain,
as I ran to the trees for comfort;
singing my lonely child's keening.
I spent time, long and long
in my wooden leafy refuge.
I saw normal children play and laugh,
but only from a distance.
Sundays, my family went to church.
My sister and I, so pretty with hair so golden,
wore dresses of childish purity.
We sang in harmony with our skin still scorched
by our father's invasions.
There was **** at home, at church, at school,
with nowhere to run but into the arms of, The Love -
that only lived inside my head.
I don't know how, but I knew,
in the arms of the trees,
that there was love springing from the earth,
blowing through the air; caressed by the wings
of the birds.
My only solace were these daily gifts.
So very beautiful.
....and I was beautiful, with this Love
bursting in my heart.
Later, as I outgrew my home, my school, and my church,
I searched for love among those around me.
Many times, I could almost believe
my secret lived in others.
But what they really wanted was to capture my secret.
To hold it to themselves, and they wounded me.
-- and gasping, I crawled out of their arms.
They left my spirit near to death.
Still inside me was, The Love-
cradled inside me, calling me to life.
I don't look for love within the world anymore.
I offer it daily to others and it grows.
I am restored in the oldest church.
In the flowers, and the birds,
and the fresh spring wind.
and if there are more years to be,
I will stay free. - I will stay me,
and worship the only love there is.
Love, .. the one pure light,
that everyday holds back the dark.
God IS Love.