On Being Reserved

Why is there a galaxy

between my heart and face?

The former—oceans

full of thoughts and dreams and feelings;

the latter, a simple puddle

on the ground?

And why this prison wall of skin?

Outside, people weave their souls

together—

a tapestry full of color,

nearly by accident.

Inside, I dwell alone.

Why am I a locked door

with no handle on the inside?

And where is the key?

Please tell me—am I wrong?

Have I done this to myself?

Is it pride that holds me in?

But no—

it’s irrelevance.

Please tell me there’s a reason for the soul You gave me.

I can know, I can understand, I can love anyone,

although they can’t know me—

is that enough for You?

Because if I am a secret, made and kept, for You alone,

that will be enough for me.

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