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I am Moses You are God
I've lived for many years.  I have seen it all before.
I've walked in many shoes.  I have knocked on every door.
Well: almost every door.   There is one I haven't tried.
And I haven't seen it all.  I am sorry.  I just lied.
 
I do not mean to lie but I don't think I'm enough.
So I manufacture stories and a bunch of other stuff
To paint the picture of my life and my relationship to you
With embellishments that really make it hard to see what's true.
 
I sometimes think, inside me there's a part of me that hates me.
The part that speaks unkindly as it pokes me and berates me.
And it always comes to play when I'm just about to love.
When I feel You beneath me, when I feel You above.
 
When my soul is open wide to You, You whisper in my heart
That I'm worthy of this journey you are asking me to start.
And I know that I am worthy as I hold aloft my grail.
And I do not see or even think that I'm about to fail...
 
But the carpet has a crinkle.  It is there to make me fall,
And as I trip and tumble I can feel I've lost it all;
The grail.  Yes.  My self respect.  My lust and love for life.
And I don't want to marry you.  I willl not be your wife.
 
I know that I am happy when I let 'your will be done'.
And I know when I'm in service, that I have a lot of fun.
But when you ask me to be leader of the God that lives in me
I realise that I, perhaps, don't want to feel free.
 
So I zigzag left to right across the path of least resistance,
Catching glimpses as I cross of how you always give assistance
To the folk who will be married to their heart for all of life;
For theirs to be the union of husband and of wife.
 
But I don't come to you with joy or gratitude or peace.
I come to you with pain and I ask you for release.
I wait till I am desperate and have nothing left to give.
And then I'll let you pour me like the water through your sieve.
 
You heal me and love me. You make me whole again.
And when I'm fully better, you can guess what happens then?
I say, "thank you, and fuck off.  I want to do it on my own."
Why would I say this when I don't want to be alone?
 
I say it 'cause I'm proud and I don't want to feel weak.
So I use you for my questions and the answers that I seek.
And when you show me lovingly that I just have to ask,
And then bash upon the rock so I can fill my holy flask.
 
I forget that it's a miracle; that miracles are true.
I forget how much I love to play and do the dance with you.
I'm obsessed with independence  and it causes me to sin,
To dispair myself until I'm blind and cannot see within.
 
And just like with the carpet I fall flat upon my face.
And this happens every time that I refuse your your sweet embrace.
And as you pick me up and hold me deep against your chest,
There's a moment of surrender.  Oh.  It feels good to rest.
 
And when I've had a rest I say "Get off me! I am fine!
Your assistance has been noted.  But now I'm back on line,
I do not need your cuddles or your laughter or your grace.
I must get back to sprinting for the fucking human race.
 
Poetic portrait for Olga Shalimova 30th January 2016 ©Simon Welsh Poetry
 
 
 
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