I would tell you a secret,
but you would not want that-
you might just catch something
like the world crumbling away at my words.

(for you would pick out pieces,
exactly the pieces you did not want to hear-
or even let me explain-
making me out as a hateful shroud
when all I love is love.
It breaks my heart.)

you would not want
the everlasting river in my heart
flowing the same through yours,
bursting the dams of that hardened idea
to a purpose, a reason, a hope.

(feeling knocks down "facts," dear.
I lived that.)

you would not want
to know that Creator
you are not sure if you care if you were created
(you were, by He)
is just Good, is just Love.
it is not fair to judge good parents
by their rebel children,
yet I understand your frustration
with hateful children who cannot hope to hold
the unconditional love of their Father.
as if we were all so great,
children would too be Creators.

(Amen, that it is not case.)

you would not want
to stop doing those things you chase:
that girl or boy, those grades, your own glory,
because they make you feel satisfied.

(I chased those same roads
and found temporary happiness,
as there was only sadness at the seams.)

please accept my hug,
even if you choose, you want
to push away my words,
to build up your dam,
to judge the Creator of the world by my sins,
and to keep chasing the world.

please just accept my hug,
and welcome love,
just as your words and heart
preach and sing together.