reflections from the year.

i keep lighting a bush on fire 

and watching it burn.

i keep waiting for G-D to speak,

i keep waiting for him in fire,

in light,

in his bush-

my own bush i found beyond the way.

life, more than ever hurts. 

the residual scars from taking the hit,

from false love, from lust,

or wondering if love will cease,

and when it doesn't, 

when it keeps coming back,

wondering if i'm allowed to let him in.

it's almost enough that he makes me feel, 

it's almost enough to forget

dreams that i had.

there are barriers surrounding me,

walls of unforgiveness,

hidden piles of tears unspilt; dammed.

what's left of my heart is an abandoned altar.

tired.

dirty beyond cleansing.

mud caked and petrified, over me,

a cast, a mummy.

it isn't so much that i feel sinful, as much as i don't feel.

so, my plea is for forgiveness, atonement, a pure heart.

my plea is to be seen - wary,

and taken into the bath house, washed and cleansed.

fragrant oils over scars, 

tender kisses,

to be allowed to stop.

i went to a bath house once,

ashamed i covered and hid

my parts with arms too thin.

this time, i'm not afraid of my faults if you aren't. 

it would be good to take some layers off

and be me for a while.