"The
Weather of the Heart"
by
Madeleine L'Engle
Because
you’re not what I would have you be
I
blind myself to who, in truth, you are.
Seeking
mirage where desert blooms, I mar
Your
you. Aaah. I would like to see
Past
all delusion to reality.
Then
would I see God’s image in your face,
His
hand in yours, and in your eyes his grace.
Because
I’m not what I would have me be,
I
idolize Two who are not in any place,
Not
you, not me, and so we never touch.
Reality
would burn. I do not like it much.
And
yet in you, in me, I find a trace
Of
love which struggles to break through
The
hidden lovely truth of me, of you.
