A retreat from your spirit would render me weak
With an atrophy’s clutch on my soul.
It would dampen my passion, and leave me oblique,
Lacking purpose or aim or control.
My dysfunction would hide–but to some it would reek
Like a mouse rotting dead in its hole.
I have ached, in this newness, for that which I crave.
I am starved for the food of our time.
And I count on the memories (those I could save)
To supplant my mundane with sublime.
All my soul rides the crest of a thundering wave
In the wake of a love in its prime.
Do not think me in exodus (how can you not?),
Though I do not sustain you in this.
I will not view as futile the battles we’ve fought,
Although something is sadly amiss,
For the strength of this love leaves my soul overwrought
As I pine for the truth of your kiss.
To withdraw from your spirit would leave me adrift,
Cast about on a raft of despair.
Would I pray to my God, have Him grant me a gift,
Then forget as it waits for me there?
In the midst of the pain I have gone for my lift,
Found I’ve always had spirit to share.
If a weakness has led me away from your side,
It has not placed me out of your reach.
By our spirit I’m led–‘twixt its wings I still ride–
And I’m open to what it would teach.
But I pray for that day when it won’t be denied
And our love washes up on the beach.
So I write to assure you I cannot forget…
That I would not withdraw from our place.
I have pain, I have sadness–but never regret–
None of us would I seek to erase.
And I dream of me tight in the weave of our net
With your spirit held fast to my face.