I made an idol of my life - 
my expression, 
my activity, 
my achievement.

I polished, perfected 
and worshipped my creations, 
failing to notice that my gifts
were a gift. 

I rightly shored up
my fortress from attack, 
with acts of independence
and power. 

But with such armaments,
my heart was incarcerated -
all forms became hollow 
and dry. 

So my folly was exposed 
in a thousand myriad ways, 
as a choreographed play 
of counterfeit control. 

As the last in line 
of the daughters of Eve,
it was strange relief 
to submit and accept: 
my weakness, 
my fragility, 
my dependence.

I am now as I always was - 
helpless unless carried 
by the stream 
of the living Spirit. 


6th September 2020, Somerset, England
With thanks to the exhortation of A.Ha.