His arms

His arms
They are like my mother’s

If my mother were a carpenter and built my house alone
If she held me safe from fire and from David took the stone
If she led me to the river and swam in it with me
If she bound me to her ever so as to be true to me

His mouth
It is like my brother’s

If my brother was a president proclaiming forth my world
If he spoke to me of beauty and of dreams as they unfurled
If he asked me for my essence as a presence and a guide
If he opened up his bleeding cup and bid me come inside

His heart
It is like my father’s

If my father was the greatest dying man that ever lived

If he disciplined his passions and enforced his will to give
If he cherished all his children and fought for their true life
If he loved me like a daughter and a sister and a wife

I have been asked to live far away
with he who is more than the men of today
It is not what I’m losing but what I receive
In loving this man, I fear not to leave