The Wooing

I have been a fortress,

Strong and nearly impenetrable.

Very few interlopers

Have scaled my walls

To gain access to the courtyard.

Even then, the doors

To my inner sanctum

Have stayed securely fastened.

The lock is broken

By no one.

Even God.

I am safe within my walls,

That little one 

Who was so wounded.

The little furry creatures

And my beautiful plants

Keep me company.  

They cannot speak

And that is good.

Human words often

Frighten, anger me.

I don’t miss my kind.

Many projects

Keep my mind and hands

Busy in the silence.

They give me satisfaction

While humans only angst.

Yet, I must say lately

A puzzling presence

With no body

Seems to have invaded

My inner sanctum.

I did not lift the latch,

And I cannot keep it out.

Nor would I want to.

It comes and goes as it wants,

And, against my will, I am

Drawn into its comforting,

Kind and peaceful folds.

It assures me that

All will be well

All will be well

Without uttering a sound.

And, lo, I believe it.

I catch myself

Waiting, waiting

For its return

And ruing its departure.

I first was sure

Some angelic being

Had lost its way

Traversing the skies

Back to heaven.

Now I think, against all reason,

My Creator has come to call,

Beckoning me sweetly

To set aside 

My lonely projects

My fearful hermitry

My refusal to connect, to feel

And work with Him

On my soul.

Not a pleasant thought,

For I fear there is much pain to face.

But I cannot refuse

This gentle, kind Spirit. 

He woos me

And I say yes.