---

∴

i cannot remember when,
or from whom,
but i know
i was told in a deep
and quiet place
to love God,
first.

i understood
that if a person
could center themselves
in that source,
like a standing stamen
in the spray of color,
this cycle of life and death and regeneration
would ceaseless stand,

and no sorrow would be without solace,
and no joy would be without peace.

you cannot take
illicit honey
from your own hive.

it is there,
as your body is
for moving,

it is there,
a work of your labors,
a sweet for your toils,
and always still,
a gift.

 

but we
the people
could not agree
on what to call him
or her,
as if God needed that designation.

and we could not agree
on God’s rules,
so we minced his letters
and bent her meaning to ours
until at last,

it was easier to say:

 

you must love
yourself,
first.

 

am I God,
to be loved like that?!

how achingly often we’re told,
with conviction,
we are.

 

it is like calling
the bee’s wing
the nectar itself,
and stripping the soul
of its alchemy.

 

then do we anger,
or rage,
or cave in to nothing,
when things don’t go our way;

for what harsher proof,
that our wills are
twisted to our favor,
than that from the wants
which will not cater?

 

i am beginning to become less
confused –

still,
in all this confounding noise –

who i shall love,
first.

∴

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