Well-pierced

This simple, exquisite piercing

which rends me - 

which comes from no place

other than myself

and is a mystery to me.

This blade of love 

which cuts me,

which sheathes itself 

in my chest,

leaving me gaping

and vulnerable.

I try to place my hands 

on the hilt of the blade,

even as I reach

not knowing whether I seek

to pull this piercing out of me

or to drive it fully home.

All I know 

is this piercing is my joy.

Through this piercing

my being is opened 

to a broad expanse of possibility:

a feelingplace I did not know existed

before soul's blood was drawn.

All I know 

is that I am fulfilled 

through the truth of this communion:

that here,

with god,

all the fleeting falseness

of myself is laid low

and I am exposed - 

exposed and opened

to receive the light

that is left in it's place.

It is this piercing

which at times pulls me away 

from the shared space of community,

away from the simplicity 

and complexity of daily life,

away from any sense of identity

other than that of a divine splinter

lodged somewhere deep 

within the flesh of my own heart.

And it is this piercing

which pushes me,

demanding that I return everyday

to that space of commercials

and crowded sidewalks,

that space of hurried meals

eaten in between items on an agenda:

that space of handshakes and hugs,

that space where you and I meet

and where we seek to come together

to create something.

That space wherein 

I find it so very hard 

to remember this piercing,

to be conscious of it's integrity.

That space wherein 

my resistance itself

becomes the only thing 

keeping me from love.