It is:

it is time:

here is the day

hastening

towards

me

how narrow

the confines

how wide

the arms

how high the love

and how so very

deep down

is the depth

of self

ah
there it is

un-fold-ing

this is a tiredness
beyond all previous
tiredness-es
stronger, weightier
fiercer in its drive
towards dark

ah, how far is the sea
this inland place has so 
bound-ed me

today there is a deeper
feeling than any
previously felt
resting under
the winter sun
waiting for the
great dis-spell-ment
and the unfolding
of hands

identities

layers of clothes

- put on by fair and rough

hands - 

have labelled us

and made us the image

not of God

no …

really
we would need to

tremble naked

weeping

to know who we are

yes …

really