Grace and Peace to you.
What reptile robbed the nest of me,
what godlike voice so unlike God said not
to call myself holy,
to know myself home?
What crafty serpent convinced me not
to know myself beautiful,
to trust myself beloved,
to feel myself enough?
A worse refusal than of my sin
is my sin itself, that cloaks the luminous.
I renounce the devil and all his ways,
his lies about what I’m not.
I can learn the poem of myself
even if its meaning escapes me,
being in a foreign language,
and chant its beauty in crowded streets.
On the long road home
through the desert of denial,
the wilderness of not seeing, not trusting,
the narrow path through the old ruins,
a great bird has flown up from me,
and leads the way.
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