A thousand and one nights without You, my darling,
I collect thoughts like shards of glass from the street
and clutch them to my desperate heart.
But they all stab and cut in the end,
and the red dewdrops that appear
twin the tears in my eyes
at my own misunderstanding.
It’s not that You drift from me, but I from You,
slipping from our bed in a hypnotized passion,
to roam midnight calling for You by all the wrong names.
Why do I never remember what You told me?
To find a quiet place and think of You,
and You are there, constant as I am wavering.
I wonder why You permit my weakness,
my turning from our sacred love over and over
till I forget what Your touch feels like,
till the sight of myself in Your eyes
becomes a dim and painful memory –
peace too often veiled in darkness.
Oh my Most Beloved,
forgive once again Your inconstant lover,
teach this fickle heart to be true to You,
to know joy in Your certain embrace.