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Confessions in the key of kenosis

—after Philippians 4

I am the one who has not
rejoiced, always, and again
I will say, is not rejoicing.

Hardly ever my gentleness
is known, even to me, and not,
certainly, to my children. Strangers
report to have seen it on Tuesday
in the library. I do not confirm
this sighting.

                       But I have catalogued
my every worry about everything,
my requests made known in the sharp,
carping voice on my blog. By supplication
and prayer I claim to have been
deserted. I say it again, deserted, justly.

                                                 And still, some Spirit
stays near, alert for the stingiest rejoicing, key
ready in his unclenched hand. Unlock, Heart-Guard,
my chest’s dark vessel. Empty me of treasured
loss. And again, I say, make it emptier, until,
for rejoicing, a space larger enough to echo appears.