Free of dirt, defilement, or pollution
I take up the position of the defeated, for that is what I have become. Face-down in the murky mire, I allow the mud to seep into every pore, a physical manifestation of the shame inside. I make no move to rise - I know what I am. The black, tarry mud is every bit of what I deserve.
You walk purposefully towards the mire where I lay dejected. Without hesitating, you wade in and reach to me. You whisper "My beloved, you are pure."
Bubbles form around my mud-caked lips as I laugh into the mud. Pure does not describe where I've been, what I've done, or who I am.
Bubbles form around my mud-caked lips as I laugh into the mud. Pure does not describe where I've been, what I've done, or who I am.
You touch me, and my laugh becomes hollow in my throat. Through the mud clinging to my eyelashes, I see you staring into my soul. Limitless love, looking into me. Has anyone ever seen that far before?
You reach one strong arm around my shoulders, the other under my knees, and you lift me out of the mud.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I love you." You say,
You set me down besides a stream, and diligently go about washing me. Tender, sweet strokes cause the mud to fall away, layer by grimy layer. It takes time, but eventually, I look pristine on the outside.
"My beloved, you are pure." You whisper.
My insides knot up frantically. Though you have washed the mud on the outside away, the muddied shame on my insides remains. Surely, there is nothing you can do to wash that kind of dirt away.
Just as these thoughts dance through my mind, you takes even strides towards me. You sit directly across from me and take my hands in yours. You look me square in the eye, and with all the loving authority of a father, you say, "I know that you were angry with me. I know you felt I let you down. I know the loneliness that ached inside of you those nights. Child, be free."
"I know you sought a different kind of love. I know you gave your first kiss away in vain, and I know all the empty ones that followed. I can count every night that you spent desperately ashamed. Child, be free."
"I know that you cherish things above me. I know you are easily drawn away from me. I know that you long to remain in me, but never live up to your own expectations. Child, be free."
"I know that you ran from me. I know that some days, it hurts so badly you feel like running away again. Child, be free. I promise you my freedom, and my love. I don't promise it won't hurt, but I promise I will make it good."
As tears stream down my face unabashedly, I whisper "Why?"
"Because I love you." Your simple reply. "My beloved, you are pure."
I am choked with the emotion. The power weighing on those words. Free of dirt, and of a filthy past. Free of shame and the pollution of loving the things of the world. Pure as snow.
And as the truth sets in, I dance. There is joy in my heart, for I know freedom and peace, and I know the Giver of these things. And you smile and laugh and share in my lightheartedness. And as I spin, you catch me, and I know I am falling in love.
When I can catch my breath no longer, you ask me to marry you. And I know I am your beloved, and you are mine. I know I am pure. I know I am loved. But I ask anyways, just to hear you say it,
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
You reach one strong arm around my shoulders, the other under my knees, and you lift me out of the mud.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I love you." You say,
You set me down besides a stream, and diligently go about washing me. Tender, sweet strokes cause the mud to fall away, layer by grimy layer. It takes time, but eventually, I look pristine on the outside.
"My beloved, you are pure." You whisper.
My insides knot up frantically. Though you have washed the mud on the outside away, the muddied shame on my insides remains. Surely, there is nothing you can do to wash that kind of dirt away.
Just as these thoughts dance through my mind, you takes even strides towards me. You sit directly across from me and take my hands in yours. You look me square in the eye, and with all the loving authority of a father, you say, "I know that you were angry with me. I know you felt I let you down. I know the loneliness that ached inside of you those nights. Child, be free."
"I know you sought a different kind of love. I know you gave your first kiss away in vain, and I know all the empty ones that followed. I can count every night that you spent desperately ashamed. Child, be free."
"I know that you cherish things above me. I know you are easily drawn away from me. I know that you long to remain in me, but never live up to your own expectations. Child, be free."
"I know that you ran from me. I know that some days, it hurts so badly you feel like running away again. Child, be free. I promise you my freedom, and my love. I don't promise it won't hurt, but I promise I will make it good."
As tears stream down my face unabashedly, I whisper "Why?"
"Because I love you." Your simple reply. "My beloved, you are pure."
I am choked with the emotion. The power weighing on those words. Free of dirt, and of a filthy past. Free of shame and the pollution of loving the things of the world. Pure as snow.
And as the truth sets in, I dance. There is joy in my heart, for I know freedom and peace, and I know the Giver of these things. And you smile and laugh and share in my lightheartedness. And as I spin, you catch me, and I know I am falling in love.
When I can catch my breath no longer, you ask me to marry you. And I know I am your beloved, and you are mine. I know I am pure. I know I am loved. But I ask anyways, just to hear you say it,
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
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