This is where you will find me exposed, angry, embarrassing, plaintive, childish, inane, blemished, bemused and broken. Why do I invite you in? To drink your wine. To share your bed. To paint your walls. To touch your skin. To crack your shell. To steal your eyes. And return them open. To invade your prayers. To increase your song. To expose you to my madness and promise. To pour oil and wine on your wounds. To fail in all the above endeavors. Now it’s your turn.
Monday, July 19, 2010
When I Have Not Rage by Leonard Cohen
When I have not rage or sorrow, and you depart from me, then I am most afraid. When the belly is full, and the mind has its sayings, then I fear for my soul; I rush to you as a child at night breaks into its parents’ room. Do not forget me in my satisfaction. When the heart grins at itself, the world is destroyed. And I am found alone with the husks and the shells. Then the dangerous moment comes; I am too great to ask for help. I have other hopes. I legislate from the fortress of my disappointments, with a set jaw. Overthrow this even terror with a sweet remembrance: when I was with you, when my soul delighted you, when I was what you wanted. My heart sings of your longing for me, and my thoughts climb down to marvel at your mercy. I do not fear as you gather up my days. Your name is the sweetness of time, and you carry me close into the night, speaking consolations, drawing down lights from the sky, saying, See how the night has no terror for one who remembers the Name.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment