Take Up My Cross

All your light casting, shadows me more fully,
cloaking every edge in protective dark,
these tools for tilling soil now barely discernible under cover cast in glaring goodness burning holes in the earth,
drying up precious liquid love ‘til all the corners beg and weep for mercy,
tears shedding grace where your face makes black all my light, churns the wells dry with your truth cruel,
gloating over all my dreams as if,
as if they know no purity ‘neath the paltry structures granted me in my night,
all I had to work with, condemned for using what I had,
detested for making the most of what my eyes could see,
shaking hands now grime-covered in your blaring sun,
hands spent completely in the dirt so true.

Such unrelenting illumination blind and blinding to all that is precious.

Fly me to the moon, away from your ugly righteousness,
away from the crucifixion of divinity inherent,
flayed in the light of the only true way,
mocked in the surety of your refusal to see me,
lost to all the light you had to be,

shining so fully on the “obvious,”
missing the stuff, the substance,
the pulsing bone and home,
the am that I am.

Take up my cross, and set me down in moonlight,
cover me in dew ‘neath trees left to their soil,
arms gracing air, reaching for the night,
strip me of these garments cloaking,
woven in blaring light…

take me to
the love
that loves while seeing,
nurtures while correcting,
adores the inherent goodness beneath the flaws,
take me to the shade cool,

to the place made beautiful in the dance of light and dark, of soul’s sweetest song…

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I live... for love... for truth that liberates... for growth... for beauty... for intelligent, soulful connection and so much else.

One thought on “Take Up My Cross

  1. Clarification: This is not a bashing at Christ or Christianity but is the cry for relief from those isms (both within the woman here and in the world) that destroy in their blaring rightness all that is precious and at those isms that can only see with the light of their own perspective, lacking in compassion or understanding of others’ experiences, insisting on shaming, mocking or otherwise ridiculing what is not understood or even what is not best, looking down on others who are deceived, misled, confused, bumbling, and even apathetic. Unfortunately, there are slices of Christianity (and atheism) that are particularly infected with these isms. As my sister Biz would say, Can’t Want It! When we quit mocking the deceived, then we will have grown beyond our need to be superior.

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