“If any man would come after me ...”
Like eating unripe fruit, sharp on the tongue,
And bitter to the belly, sitting sour:
A dark discomfort faith would fain deny,
The thorn that pierces those who reach the flower.
“If any man …” We turn the phrase around,
Looking for loopholes, searching Google maps
For an alternative; forgetting what
It costs to squeeze through eye-of-needle gaps.
Somewhere, in some dark valley of dry bones,
There comes the moment, choice that is no choice,
My smallness cannot stretch the widening breach,
I must renounce my ego or love’s voice.
I must be stretched as He, my God, was stretched,
To learn, from finitude, Love’s height and breadth,
Drown in those tears His blessed touch turns to wine,And learn there is no limit to its depth.