Reasons why I love You
I could find so many,
more than the raindrops on my windscreen,
more than pixels on my P.C. screen or links on the internet,
more than the bloodthirsty doubts that were but yesterday sucking my life.
I love You most of all for this:
'The bruised reed He will not break.'
The bruised soul, lashed flat against the ground
by merciless tyres of its own allowing,
He will not pass over with persistent silence,
He will not hand over completely
No! He stoops down to
weep her clean with dew-drops of compassion –
oh the delicate, in-describable, petal-soft beauty of Your loving-kindness!
and for many more nights and days
I love You
more than for anything else for this:
That Your hands touch away the fears
as they keep hold of mine;
that Your eyes watch away the stains
as You open mine;
that Your word, one word, word of mercy,
kinder than a mother's willing breasts,
kissed my chains asunder
and brought – like the sudden recognition
of a smell forgotten since earliest childhood –
the taste of being free.
Oct. 3, 2001