This state of being doesn’t change or pout;
that’s only my love, not tomorrow’s mutterings.
When I bleed, You give me alleluias.

in the pit of my making, grace & manna.
How could I love You more?
How travel across the vastness of Your love?

No, this state of being upholds my nature;
the very one You made for me,
the one in Your image.
Yet how sweet is Your likeness
& how beast-like mine, lumbering across
this too-short life?

But You love me beyond all hope.
To persuade me. You sent Jesus Himself
to carry a body awkward like mine,
to love me, to feel hunger, to suffer my terrors.
Yes, the Holy One did not carry His
flesh free from fear; He suffered my sufferings.

How could I love You more?
Oh how could You love me?
One of Your greatest mysteries
I greet only with trembling gratitude.
Yes Father I’m laid waste before You.
How could I love You more?


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