Noon, Thursday, May 29, 2014

To my sons, I need to say:

Go with the one who will move your fingers to write new scripture.

Who will teach you to know God.

Who will carry you in themselves as your mother does.

Who loved you not for anything you did, but for who you are.

Not the one whose eyes show you her bed,

Nor the one whose hips distract you from her heart.

Not the one who offers you something to take,

But the one who offers you something to give.

Love the love that finds you in despair.

The one who stoops down to pick you up from the ground,

Who wipes the black tarnish from your soul

To reveal the heart of gold that lies beneath.

Love the love who loves you as your mother does,

Not the mother who left cookies on the counter,

Nor the mother who could not tell you no,

But the mother who is your home.

The one who will bear your grief in blood and shit

And wipe her tears with the mess you have made of her body.

Love the one who will call to you, and tell you to walk to her on wobbly knees.

The one who taught you to speak.

The one who fed you from her aching chest.

The one who would rather die than take food from your plate.

Love the one who loves you without end and without beginning.

Love the first if she finds you first.

Love the second if she finds you second.

Love the third if she finds you third.

She will find you, son.

And when you see her, do not look away,

Though she be marked with scars and tears,

Burdened by the weight of heaven,

And burned by the fires of hell.

Last love, you have found me.

Last love, I have been seeking you my entire life.

I have been courageless.

I have wasted the lives of other women.

I have strewn their broken bodies behind me,

A trail of blood, and stones, and tears.

Last love, I have given birth to daughters.

Last love, I have abused them.

Last love, I am not perfect. I am broken.

Last love, I walked alone on my balcony and looked down upon Bathsheba.

I sent her husband away, and I have put a seed in her belly that will rise up against me.

Last love, I am unlovable.

Last love, you are all that is left to love me.

Last love, I have been a preacher, stealing from the innocent.

Last love, I have mocked your sons.

Last love, I have sought you in bedrooms into which you wandered,

Leaving me with empty hands.

Last love, I want to be your last love,

But I am not worthy of you.

Last love, I want to save you and protect your fragile spirit,

But I am not stronger than the grave.

Last love, look at me as my mother does.

Last love, love me unconditionally.

Last love, forgive me that I did not find you first.

Last love, I will teach your sons to love your daughters.

Last love, I will open my heart to receive you

With open hands.

Last love, you have given me courage.

Last love, you have taught me to love myself.

Last love, you have filled me with all that is left of you,

And I am overflowing.

Last love, I will write the Gospel you have shown me.

Last love, I want only for you to dry your tears.

Let them fall on me.

Last love, you have found me.

Last love, I will be your last love.

Amen.
Amen.

Amen.