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Alone
There is a certain strict discipline in being alone,
in waiting for the whisper of Your voice,
a caress against heart and mind.
Even bearing the weight of the flame-sharp bite
of Your commands is a joy
to one who has so long been disciplined
by silence.
Humble me with the grace of breaking, my Lord.
I am stiff-necked and stubborn
with a warrior’s pride.
If these be things You cherish, my Love,
then all is well within my heart.
But should they ever prove a detriment
to Your plans and my usefulness to You,
then strip them from me with all the fury of the storm.
Grant me no quarter. Show me no mercy.
I would be of use to You even more
than I would be loved by You,
Oh my God.
I think I understand.
I am not strong enough
to hold my center firm
against the rushing flood-tide of love.
I am not strong enough
to hold myself within myself
against the insidious desire
to shift and change to please a mortal man.
In truth, I should worry only about pleasing You.
I have lost this truth in the ache of my own heart.
Only for You should my nature prove mutable.
Only for You should such terrible hunger flare.
Only for You should I lay the core of ‘me’
willingly down upon the altar of sacrifice.
So keep from me this thing
which would keep me from You.
Keep it from me until I sway not in its wake.
Keep it from me until it no longer makes of me a thief
giving to a mortal love that which is not mine to part with:
those pieces of me already claimed by You.
© Galina Krasskova
Image: "Gone, But Not Forgotten
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