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     You are blessed by God
     and that blessedness
     leaves me breathless;


But.....
aw.. ****,  love..

The shame didn't come from me
and neither did the all-consuming condemnation..
     yet my direct words to you  make you feel
     as though I am the author of both


Love,  infused with truth
is a language all its own
but you can't do it.. can you
You are wholly unable to see yourself
as someone truly Loveworthy

You can't see it,
and so it is my words to you
that you attack
     and then run from
     and then run to

and then fall in love with

     And then  you rage
     and then  you hide
     as it churns
 
     as it churns
     as it churns


     And you think its from me
     And you think I am the author  of both

But it was   i n   y o u   before we ever met
and because of that,  I lose everything
..
because I won't stop doing
what it is  that I do.


Love is different
than what it sometimes feels to you


Her telephone rang 'bout a quarter to nine
she heard his voice on the other end of the line
she wondered what was wrong this time
She never knew what his calls might bring
with a cowboy like him, it could be anything..
And she always expected the worst
in the back of her mind

He said, "It's cold out here and I'm all alone
didn't make the short go again, and I'm coming home
I know I've been away too long..
I never got a chance to write or call
and I know this rodeo has been ******* us all
But I'll be home soon
and honey is there somethin' wrong?"

She said, "Don't bother comin' home
by time you get here I'll be long gone
There's somebody new and he sure ain't no rodeo man."
He said, "I'm sorry it's come down to this
there's so much about you that I'm gonna miss
But it's alright baby
if I hurry I can still make Cheyenne..
Gotta go now baby,
if I hurry I can still make Cheyenne."

He left that phone danglin' off the hook
then slowly turned around and gave it one last look
then he just walked away
He aimed his truck toward that Wyoming line
with a little luck he could still get there in time

And in that Cheyenne wind he could still hear her say..

She said, "Don't bother comin' home
by time you get here I'll be long gone
There's somebody new and he sure ain't no rodeo man.."

He said, "I'm sorry it's come down to this
there's so much about you that I'm gonna miss
But it's alright baby,
if I hurry I can still make Cheyenne

Gotta go now baby
if I hurry I can still make Cheyenne.."

She never knew what his calls might bring
with a cowboy like him, it could be anything..
and she always expected the worst
In the back of her mind

https://youtu.be/XQY2m7xS8Sk
come away with me
Ylzm May 2019
If blessedness is a choice,
who chooses to be accursed?

What need for God,
since we bless ourselves;
by the strength of our arms,
and the cunning of our wits;
but that they remain
strong and sharp even with age,
and that our store houses,
are not burned down or robbed,
and that Evil be kept far from us.

Job was blessed of God.
Evil touched him to his bones,
His storehouses burnt down,
His sons and daughters massacred.
Wishing death rather than life,
but enough life and fear remain,
to know torment, pain and suffering,
and to question agonizingly without answers;
accused falsely by unwise friends,
who spoke the wind as if its wisdom;
and to live days without end in sight.

We bless ourselves
as we count blessings:
Beholden to the flesh,
its desires and fears.
As the blind,
content not to fall,
but destined to fly
and see the unseen
and be the unimaginable.
Gentle silence
has soaked
into the
thick walls
around me.

And
there is
blessedness
amongst
the boxes.
©Elisa Maria Argiro

— The End —