having kept faith

the sea is my church, 

and i haven’t been to worship in almost six months.

haven’t been able. 

my legs can’t span the distance to the sand where i used to work out the knots that tend to grow in things, when you live;
they’re a little stuck, of late

in the lonely kind of concrete that goes on for miles but doesn’t pulse with use

rather, cracks from salt and weather...

though your name, my holiest love, is still in all my passwords. 

i fell into this house the way one falls up wet wooden stairs -
with surprise. not without bruising. thinking ‘better up than down.’ 

i meant to in the way you mean to marry after widowhood;

which is to say, i didn’t really mean to at all. 

there’s a monster here who doesn’t know he’s monstrous, 
doesn’t mean to be

a sad little creature whose nature is a wonder even to himself

and who still hasn’t gotten over the daily shock of looking in the mirror. 

when we bow our heads at dinner, i pray instead that he be allowed ignorance

or that he might at least forget about the mirrors. 

when you are sitting at the table like this, palms open, 

a certain opening of the heart is expected. 

yet, closed i remain. two seasons have passed, and still i am no convert. 

captive’s syndrome does not take to the sort of soil i carry within, 

and i sport no blossoms of love for the ways of the place i continue waking up to. 

i’ve begged you more than once to come collect me, 

and it’s not that you haven’t tried. it’s not time yet. i know this. but here i stay, 

on your temple floor. devoted. anticipating. 

dear my saviour, dear my love

come take me home. 

young bride - midlake