"I surrender all. I surrender all.
All to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all."
the notes trail down, down, down.
It’s like saying to me, a voice,
from somewhere far away,
"Give me all your money
give me all your food, your house and all its rooms.
I want your talents,
your voice, your pen,
your time carved out for yourself,
I want your thoughts, your friends, your lust,
your 401K, your car, your clothes, your children,
your husband, and your ministry."
"You don’t need them at all,"
is the whisper.
"Give me the key, too, the one to that room,
the one at the corner of your heart, the one hiding
the you, who,
no one sees (but me)."
The Voice sounds like mellow oil
being poured from a vessel of alabaster,
white and hard. I sense its sagacious fragrance
seep down through my soul, a caressing
not unlike my lover’s.
My mind rushes
but the Voice hastens closer,
until I feel the presence of the Voice
echoing within the recesses of my fractured heart
whispering at the crack of the closed door.
Deliberately I steel beneath
knowing that if only
I remain as I am
I will silence the Voice into retreat
Then I will bathe
in the milky presence of myself
washing away the slick of