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.”