Even as I clear my bookshelves,

I have ordered a book or two.

This love of words ordered to create

meaning and music I cannot resist.

Maybe it was being raised on old hymns

and the King James Bible that is to blame

for this blessing, this curse, this love

of language and storytelling,

this bifurcated vision of the world –

the human and the divine 

and the inability to separate one

from the other: beauty from truth,

the salvation of no avoidance,

that nearly savage grace of going through.

Words have been my blessing and curse:

“Bless me, curse me but do not leave me untouched.”