Lacerations

God. . .
Give me wings to fly to the sun
Without incineration.
Incineration got me to this place
So entangled in you
I was no longer myself
Only fragments remained.
Now I'm busy picking up pieces
Of brittle bones and loose skin.
Your healing breath - once a salve to my imperfections
Holds a bitter odor, today.
And I can't help but to want more than broken-
Being loved because I was broken.
There is so much more here than your fragile thing
With arms tightly woven into every affirmation or condemnation
You lavished on me.
I am no longer that woman.
My shoulders start to ache, an unfamiliar searing
A new anticipation sets in and I instinctively keep your tired arms at a distance
Where they cannot save me.
Knowing this is my journey.
Alone.
Muscles and tendons stretch and flesh begins to rip.
A gift emerges through these two quickly healing lacerations.
I feel their span, as they beat rhythmically in new found strength and freedom.
Perhaps God has been listening all along.