These wounds ache, the new ones,
next to the old scars you healed-
I seek places of solitude
where I can lick them, concealed-
I am not ashamed of these,
endowed with a fierce pride
Of a belonging beyond comfort,
Beyond an ego destroyed-
This is not destruction:
it is a rising, phoenix-like,
From ashes holding embers still,
alive, ready to ignite-
What were You who came to me
in the stillness of evening;
Walking through the corridors
of silent communion-
I have sought so many answers
and found so many lies;
You came as Truth and lay beside
my conscience and my sighs-
You, the answer, the question, You-
did my thoughts find body or Yours?
Did You seek me or I You,
Or did the Flood take its course?