“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.
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