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Tell me I’m chosen. Tell me I’m unbidden. For what would I become if I’m not devoted to the throne of belonging from flesh to bone?
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A fallen feather bearing the scented longing that has no ending long after the heavens abandoned it to fall. I’ve tried to understand it before I had any claim to speak a bare sound, and you kept letting me hear that I was a bridge from a heart that declared the sun to be answer enough. Mouths of others retell the story again and again with the aftertaste of something meant to be feared. Yet I couldn’t restrain myself from reaching what my faith could neither relinquish nor disown. Whether I’m lost or wandering back through the corridors of the gaze. Whether I’m the one who calls sacrifice by another holy name; I believe you never cease to tell me that love is the persistence of truth in our minds that have learned their questions too well. That love is the surrender to feeling that demands no reason whatsoever.
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