I am a leaky person.
            Siphoning the world through in hopes something will stick. Fill. Remain.

I have the Spring of Life at my fingertips.
             The body of Living water, standing at my well, inviting me to siphon no longer.

The days I walk away, or hem, haw and delay in the terror I cannot always explain is with me – do not succeed in banishing Him from that well.

The well where He tells me everything I’ve ever been. Where He uncovers the pieces I work feverishly at keeping hidden. Where He applies the medicine of Light to my festering wounds. Where He comes back to, again and again, every morning – remaining.

My fear and flesh do not repulse Him. My weakness does not deter nor humor Him. My bared self, all of my shadows, do not cause Him to recoil.

              He tells me everything I’ve ever been.