No, I Am Not
No, I am not stoic gospel always
Though I find safety and comfort there
No mere blanket, I still feel
And long and smile away the tear
That day's self sufficiency peels.
I wish you had said you loved me
I would trust you again
Though each time I rise from your breast
To find the Phillistines shackles on my wrist
And you vanished like dream and mist
You leave again and again and I
Each time the coming
As if you are the prepared place for me
This blindness is my historic death
Your faithlessness is the dagger in me.
And I, Samson or the Christ
Must either share the tragedy amidst the noise.
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