An angel hands me a cup and I drink
He tells me it's the wine of God's wrath
It tastes like nothing although my soul knows bitterness
As I lie in bed I retrace my steps, as I have done many times before, looking for a single, solitary moment I could have done something differently to save my life from this.
I don't find it. I never find it. Exhausted and nauseous from replaying the same tragedies in my mind over and over again I fall asleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night to the word "sinners"
And a voice tells me I am chief among them.
I am strangely at peace with this,
because I know love
It is not a conditional love that issues a cruel ultimatum
Insisting "change or die"
Neither does it say, "I love you in spite of your many sins and flaws"
It teaches me who I really am, not who it wants me to be.
What is the provenance of this love?
It is not found in a book or among the clouds.
It comes not from acquaintance, those who know not the dark, secret things of the soul
It comes from the truth, from honesty and spilled guts. It comes from confession when every last secret is brought to light and you can finally love yourself.
