quietly come
it is I
to your light
so little afraid –
resigned
to become
more in the passing
of truth into truth
ways to the weight
permission allows

kneeling
before
against
as within
an altar already made
of cypress and sorrows
iron and bone
scars worn to rope
for holding me on

breathless beginning
was come
of an end
when all had seemed lost –
one light drew me
home

. . .