The sky reaches out
to hold me.
East, west, north, south:
wide open.
But I am wrapped up 
in myself.

I use this poem as prayer or incantation, invocation. Right hand on or at dantien, left hand at heart, with an imaginary flame rising from the cupped palm. I replace the conditional but with an affirmative and. Then there is irony, humour, in my admission to retreat, though never defeat. As though God's love is something we, when deeply aware, need to protect ourselves from. It's too much, overwhelming; an onslaught. And we're only human after all.