I felt the words bubbling and boiling
seething and stewing
simmering under my skin like a witches brew
words like self-pity, anger, discontentment-
They burned all those around me,
and they burned me too
eating me away, piece by piece
flickering and flaring,
the flames that I thought were keeping me alive
instead licking back and choking the life out of me
I was puffed up with pride,
and yet sinking fast
“Come, die with me.” I heard a voice say
It’s the voice of the shepherd, still and small
And I don’t want to suffer,
I don’t want to die,
but I’m dying anyway under the weight of this sin
so I take his hand
as we bow low together
I become a servant, like the servant of all
the flames that used to burn the ones around me,
now lit up with love and keeping them warm
Is this death, or life?
Is this sacrifice or renewal?
No longer do the words bitterness, resentment,
comparison and inequality,
bubble under my skin and fester my soul
But beloved, chosen, forgiven, free
light up my spirit and cause my heart to dance-
I am thy hand maiden, do what you will!
Though you give, though you take, I accept all with joy
No longer room for jealousy, no longer room for hate
I run close behind you, I stay on your heels
poems.
