31 January 2006

Stones too heavy

I thought I'd been here before, but I don't recognize a thing--the path alone on a trusted Word, the solitary way. Is this the part, Much-Afraid, where I make the alter on the mountain, alone? Where I pause and count the alter-stones, decide it was all worth it, but don't expect an angel?

I don't expect an angel.

Curious why you gave me this journey with this end in mind. Where each alter of surrender has been more demanding and each demand of my trust reaches deeper, there is a hand inside me tearing, tearing into the very fibre of my being, lowering me, lowering me.

I wanted to be lowly.

I thought I'd seen your face before; there's no forgetting it, the searing, searching gaze. What of the promises? Why is the struggle so new and unfamiliar? I thought I'd been here before and made this sacrifice already.

Why do you ask me to build another alter out of stones that I cannot lift?

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