I can see You better when I'm hurting.
I've never understood that until now:
Grieving what is gone;
longing for what may never come;
aching "from wounds inflicted
in time out of memory..."
Staring into space is a hobby.
My target of choice to look beyond:
A blank wall, a repeating pattern
on the couch cushion,
in the textured paint on the ceiling;
perhaps a spot on the window,
or a cobweb- not that I have
cobwebs in my house.
Heaven knows I keep it clean-
as clean as I am able with all the
repeating patterns and spots
on the cushions and windows.
Tonight, my eyes found a new image
to fix upon, to stare beyond:
A mosaic face, the patterns of tiny glass
flowing in and out of a visage
I could not stare blindly for long.
I found myself entranced by You,
captivated by Your humble countenance,
though depicted as magnificence,
in the midst of revealing Yourself
And yet You look to me and ask;
do not command, nor expect;
only offer Yourself.
What an icon..
What a man.
For just a moment,
I remembered how it felt
before I knew,
before I hurt,
before I fell..
to be in love.