A Poem: Willing

I make a world without you,
an identity apart from you,
and you humble me
to bend the knee,
to kneel and spread my hands.
What good is everything,
insubstantial, apart from your blessing,
without you to tie it together,
to imbue it with the colours
and form of your name,
your grace.

And so instead of self-determination,
the kneeling knee defines itself,
as a link in the chain,
or maybe even, a touch of colour
worn against the skin,
a piece of fabric pressed against your flesh
in the cool and heat.
Yes, I would be a part of you,
all stirring stopped and grasping ceased,
and everything I look at
I will not need to claim, or keep.

For in your hands lies everything,
for in the end everyone comes

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2020

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