Had I squandered loaf of time and loved indiscriminately,
a little at a time, would these decades full at first of promise
but flattened by my choice, have instead seen me on the rise?

Are they right who say nourishment of soul from physical
affection might have prevented second splintering? Is it true
that I chose death for moral principle most would label obsolete?

To those who saw my lack and refusal of those near to respond
to growing need I said, “God will provide. It is enough.
There will always be enough love for those who believe.”

Then they removed me from community, sweeping what crumbs
of self were left of me into dust. They cast me out, I suppose,
because I loved but chose way of honesty, suffering indescribably.

Too tired to appreciate the irony, I am a woman without
dough to kneed. Consumed by lack of life-giving love, still
I have these hungry mouths to feed, nothing left to give.

Brittle, perhaps bitter to taste, I am. With sweet water of love
I’ve never known could I be brought back to life to share
all the love I have to give that’s had nowhere to go?