A Poem
Always I've lived in-between,
Every side to see,
to hear and taste, to feel.
My heart is full of emotion,
Modernity's search for reason,
rules to enlighten,
Until I find a story-
hundreds not my own,
each compelling
and human,
Not every narrative will do,
for then I approve that
which my enlightened
soul will not amend.
What am I,
are we, to do?
Embrace or make room,
making room will not do,
they say-
For my narrative
you cannot offend?
Lost am I, can you not see?
Love requires I listen to thee.
Love requires I walk along side
your fluidity,
To listen, not as Job's friends,
Really listen
to another's end.
Of same-sex relations
I wish to be,
One who blesses
committed love,
If in your biology;
There is
no companionship
across the chasm
of sex between
two unlikes,
And Your being
will not attend.
Yet, do not ask me to affirm
This be the equal
of heterosexual union,
from which biology
and God attend,
A child is born of two,
now One,
A narrative
not unlike
the Holy Trinity--
Wherein three Persons
unique,
beyond
Time and mass,
Whose very love
explodes
a universe
born of diversity.
Of fluidity in gender,
more troubled I am,
Not of love's
embrace of one
who is uncertain
over-time,
If with their body,
they rhyme?
I will hold my peace,
defend you're God given
right to explore,
even pressing
the science beyond
it's enlightened reason.
But once again,
do not ask me an agenda defend:
--to approve the
use of hormonal treatment
in the very young,
or worse,
--defame the body,
entrapping the very young
inside emotions,
whose narrative
may not last
beyond the curious
mysteries
of adolescence.
Lost I am, myself-
within my own
Inward struggles
between body and soul,
Mine, unlike others,
rooted in
broken spaces,
And covered
with the stain of sin.
I will, for myself appeal
to my Creator's love,
who entered deeply
into my human choice,
covered inside
my God created longings,
attempting to meet
apart The Will,
Born of Integrity.
It is virtues loss I feel my own,
Though loves redemption
is my chosen narrative.
In between I shall ever live,
without judgement,
Ever discerning in trust
The Lion's breath,
The Lion of Judah,
in whose arms I rest.
Terry 12/11/22
An Update 11 months into renewed fidelity.
The world's a mess,
The oldest of enemies renewed.
Sweet peace ever closing
as mischief makers renew,
Their sickened hatred for Israel's light,
unwilling to fathom God's smile,
Like the Sun,
Shines down on all the children of Promise,
including upon those to whom it
Is long overdue,
in Palestine's land.
This lost One is found,
far nearer the precipice than I wish I had gone,
Yet I did,
And the way out is to follow The One,
Who being Three,
has made
both precipice and sea
and me.
Terry 10/17/23
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