I find

the art of becoming to be sometimes
the most difficult of things. Here freedom
meets responsibility,
not for bills or children or
husbands or wives or homes
with caving walls or crackling ceilings, but
for what the Past was and who it made me out to be,
for the things I learned to lack and the way I lived out Love,
eking out a beggar's feast for lack of good soil, rain, and a gardener.

I become in the crawl space between confession and mercy.