Into all I am afraid will cast me away from you,
into all guilt and pain and unworthiness,
Jesus climbs like slipping into my skin.
Into all thin loneliness, all rage and flame,
into my worst ugliness, my most horrific evil,
Jesus enters and makes a home.
My violence, my failure, the little pieces
of the soul I was given Jesus gathers in his arms.
My whole self he fills, his wine in the chalice of me.
He enters that dark chasm between me and you
and becomes it,
and there is no chasm, no darkness
that is not you.
This assaults all I know. It must not be.
Whether or not I am forgiven
I am not ready to receive it.
I push him away, the you of him, the him of him.
I kill him again and again.
Again and again, he comes to me
and says my name
until I die in your arms.
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