By: Berit Goetz
I know your step is coming (light and wise,
unwinding like a crown untwisted quite
Of thorns, torn. And I’m glad—so very glad—
My life can figure in a little part
Of yours.) Why gentle, why dread, dear my Heart?
In giantness, you, magnanime, can make
my days to overflow with kindnesses.
So speak me soft—woo me—will all my words
Would turn to you—turn, taste, try deep delights.
My fingers, as they type, bend to a mind
That’s full of all the graces you possess.
And now, graceless, expect me filled, formed, found
Out by all everythings you hold in hand
and heart. In part, dear one, you are that tune
Recalls me to my truer form and time.
In whole, you have the lingering sweetness, His,
Likenesses, limbs formed in the love of One
Who knows, consoles, holds, has to have his own.