I wanted you to give me back my self
the way the sun gives itself back
to this strangled city at dawn.
The way spring replaces winter,
I wanted you to replace
darkness with light,
dreams with waking,
death with life.
I wanted you to do God’s work.

Then God said: Let him be alone again.
And I was alone.

Three strikes. Nine innings. Three outs.
You did what you had to do.
We all do. For instance,
I am compelled to keep breathing.
I can’t do a damn thing about it.
The body bleeds, the heart beats,
and the song plays on
for those with ears to hear it.
We used to dance through our fears
to the pulse of that song.

I wanted to hear our bodies sing
until my ears could hear no more.
Now some other man will stand astonished
at your choosing him. His ears will open
as you call him into union
with you, with himself, and with Life.
But knowing this truth is no knife to my heart.
I want you to be some man’s beloved wife.

When this prayer reaches you,
forgive me, as I forgive you,
as God forgives us both,
we who know not what we do.