I wonder
why it is
that I don’t afford others
the same capacity for love
that I possess

why I constantly
doubt who truly
holds me as
irreplaceable as
I do them

How arrogant of me!

Am I the only one who
lives like this?
constantly calculating
heart rhythms
like profit percentages

who with my
hypocrite tongue
profess that true love
comes with no strings
attached yet I

can’t stop trying
to earn it
can’t stop wondering
which flaw will
unravel devotional threads
leave me
open wound

suffocate in
red tissue suspicions
that my expendability
renders heart temple
homes for me
as wind changeable
as forest fire
or dandelion seeds
I am the reed
who bends to mask
the fact that she is

blinded to what she’s
spirit known for lifetimes
her brothers and sisters
bending with her
all along a breeze-
battered sea

the Irony
is bittersweet
in reality this
not so temporary
nothing to do
with any of them
and everything
to do with
what’s wrong
in me.

so why is it
that even when I
gaze through unclouded
fresh scrubbed
redemption cleansed
I can be loved loudly
by God himself
and still be destroyed
by my doubt
by inner frailty
by your earthly