i remember the day when it

floated in the air towards
a Thief, hesitated
To grab what i owned but could not
But You stole it.

You reached out
Your hand like a queen
reaches for alms.

For pity?
For understanding?
Compassion,  maybe.
It cannot-
will not
Be what You told me
beside the broken
stained glass
window that cast shards of
light On Your face while we were
swallowed by waves
made of cloth where we
belonged but was used by countless
other Thieves and victims and Thieves
and Thieves.

You, the most terrible Thief
and yet the most skilled.
You took
what was mine and cherished
and cared and lived for it.
Even for a while.

You returned
It. You looked at me
With kindness clutching
Your hand
Like a child
Holds on to a pet dog.

And i had to own
What you returned.
But it was no longer mine.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s