You do not

[Rootsie]

You do not preen at my florid words.
Not one of my old moves works
to move you.
You do not allow me to sacrifice myself
on your altar,
or content me with lies
or half-truths.
You have no use for my brokenness.
In fact you challenge my insistence
that it exists at all.

I feel at a loss because all I once believed
and lived by
lies shattered at my feet,
all but the things that are real:
my courage, my patience,
my willingness to learn and be new.
And this love, this one love,
which is not particular,
which seeks to possess nothing,
which in-forms the beauty of What Is,
what always has been,
what forever will be,
this love a newly polished mirror
reflecting my new face
in this new place and time,
this new wine
which only a new skin
can hold.