If it was a man that I loved on the cross,
Instead of Christ
How would I take communion?
Not with complacency, nor discontentment.
Surely with tears and remorse and regret
For one who wasn’t always dead and limp.

A man I loved: someone I touched,
Someone I smiled at,
Someone I spoke to.
Someone with warm blood coursing through his veins
Hair on his chest, maybe freckles on his arms.
Eyelashes, lips, ears, elbows.
Tears, words, hugs, smiles.

A man that I loved:
How could I ever be the same?
If he were to be hung
Bruised, crushed, pierced.
Dead and limp.
Hair on his chest, maybe freckles on his arms.

How could I walk out of the sanctuary
And pay for a sprite
And bend the straw
And forget?

You are hopeless when you fight
As if you you’ll win!
Beloved, why must you battle so long
For a moment of sin?
Why do you persist?
You are starved by stubborn will,
You wretched child,
You raise your fists
And yet I love you still.

And don’t you think I want the chance
To make you pure?
Beloved, look at what you settle for -
Is your heart so sure?
Beloved, you want me!
Though the thought you quickly ****,
Many idols
You make love to
And yet I love you still.

Beloved, I cannot be still and fail
To stir your heart, for this I know:
Your desire is towards me, but
You do not see it so.
What heavenly joys I offer!
But you are blind to my good will,
You move through life
Unmoved by me
And yet I love you still.

Beloved, I do wish to love you;
As a lover might.
I delight in you, my darling
And would cover you each night -
The LORD desires you, and yet
You seek pleasure in an earthly thrill!
You will not know Me
As your Husband,
And yet I love you still.

I have borne the deepest scars,
You need not bear your own.
Why hide yourself from Me, Beloved -
When you are fully known?
Known, yes, and even –
Wanted!
Does the very thought not thrill?
For I have known
Your innermost,
And yet I love you still.

I cut for the tears trapped in my veins.
The ones that worry people, the ones that make them look again.
I cut for the tears that sting and burn
Oh my God, that hurts, and I know why.
No need to look for an excuse to ache.

I cut for the tears that no one forces from me.
It wasn’t him leaving, it wasn’t her lying
Or them, not even noticing. No.
These tears are mine! Mine alone to cry!
Only I can make them flow.
Only I.

I cut for the tears that leave a scar. Though mine, you hardly see.
Just clear white skin over whole blue veins
Not a mark….but one or two.
Small white lines, barely raised.
More like winks, to remind me:
Healing isn’t beautiful
or free.

And that’s not how I cry now.
Clear tears come and go,
And my wrists wink,
And I am whole.

Maybe time will work at me
Like a mango.
Softer and softer, full to bursting,
I just want to bloom. To burst and explode,
And then be done, and rest.
Bruised, perhaps. Soft, sweet.

Maybe I will mellow. Maybe I will lose the shine
of being stretched over all my insides,
All the swimming flavor,
Veined together, contained and fibrous.
Maybe the stem will snap at last,
And I will hit the earth, mangled.
Juices ****** away,
Soaked into the ground that split me.

A good man who wished to fight,
To raise his fist and shake the stormy skies
Once dropped his sword, and never knew
That he was wise.

A good man who wished to shout,
To raise his voice and speak his angry word
Once held his tongue, and never knew
That he was heard.

A good man who wished to stay,
And not be known as someone weak or wrong
Once walked away, and never knew
That he was strong.

A good man who wished to live,
And not be torn, but set himself above –
Hid his heart, and never knew
That he was loved.

How can I think this is joy?
I’ve never tasted more.
I climbed through a window
Too impatient
To look for the door.
And now, I wish I’d followed you!!!
God, give me a door!!!
I climbed through a window
Too impatient
Too wait for something more.

And what did I miss?
Something grand, I fear.
I climbed through a window
Too impatient
And now I’m sitting here.
I’ve never been so far.
I’ve never been so near.
I climbed through a window,
Too impatient
And no one loves me here.

Why throw yourself at stone and stars?
Bright things can’t hold a breaking soul.
Wounded things find solace in each other’s scars
And hands that know the handle blade
Can still another’s violent storms.

Two cracked people fit together better
Than two ivory gods—whose perfect hearts
Don’t skip a beat, or speed or slow.
Or shudder when they’re touched by hands
That could wring blood, or slowly stroke to bliss.

Two birds fighting in a cage make better love
Than statues carved to last forever
Decades old—yet just a breath
Representing love’s great prize:
The reason fighting rubs us raw.