Viewpoint

This is the beauteous place
the water stretches away from me
shore to shore lapps this loch round
and God's sun is in his heaven
shining: all is well
but this greyer, sadder place below -
our misery, our hell -
is paler in my eyes now
than it has ever been
and this beauty stretching
breaks my heart with longing
and for loss.  You ask us
to bear much too much
O Lord, and though I've tried
I am bent like a bough too low
to the ground and all my blossom
falls.  I seek to seek your halls
your feet, a peace within your arms
that counters the alarm, the fright
of where we are.  I am scarred
beyond relief, beyond my power
to heal the living weals that ever
bleed.  Send me to you
that I might see all those who
made my life worthwhile.  Without
my kin and love I cannot breathe -
this water is too turgid, stale and
brown by which to live,
the dregs drunk down are bitter
and all this stretching easy water
beauteous has nought
to do with me and the way
my heart beats.  I have found
no place of solace, no good arms,
no surplus - all is thin and bare
and my days a gruel I cannot eat.
Take me to your heart, your light,
these eddies hurt my sight and
all that stretching water
does is cover up a mess
beneath where foul things live -
a surface beauty that
serenely shows the sky itself
but lies, being glass, hides
its nature and
the seething life within
that feeds.  I turn from it
its lying face, and face
the shadow following.
My heart, being broken,
bleeds my life away
and my one last trust
of that embrace to come
    - I welcome it -
(for now there is no place to place
my feet, all direction been
all deeds well-done)
my one last trust is 
let his touch be cold and
let it numb, for I can
stomach no more knives
and no more lies and
want this life thing, this
place pain-comprised, all done.

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