Embrace
Do I hate this silence
you inflict on me
or do I embrace it
much as we embrace
the splintered wood
we shoulder on our
journey toward
our own calvaries?
I do embrace it,
but I will not kiss it
or rejoice in it.
I simply hug it to me
and bear it—
stumbling,
bloody-kneed
bruise-shinned,
under its weight
as I have always done.
On it I lay myself
neither quietly
nor without complaint.
But on it I lie
and on it I am lifted up
and exposed for who I am.
On it
splayed
I embrace everything
laid out—
silently—
before me
as I would embrace you
if you would allow me.
11/16/2009
Chicago
4 Easter
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