I fled Him down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears.
—”The Hound of Heaven”
(Francis Thompson, 1859-1907)
PERMANENT HOUSEGUEST
Hound of Heaven, pursue my friend; lavishly lick her face.
Please make her giggle, restore her soul, and nuzzle her with grace
To cover wounds in blameless-bliss, beguiling puppy whines,
As balm to heal the ravages defined by Hell’s designs
To cripple and ensnare her in deceptions of the past,
The lies of devils — meant to keep her prisoner and outcast,
When all she yearns for is to feel the warmth of your sweet breath;
Track down my friend, with panting thirst, who’s hitchhiking with death.
Keep scampering, yelping, yipping and just nipping at her heels,
To trip her up and knock her down, until she finally kneels,
Reminding her she’s royalty — this princess in disguise –
Who wrestles with the Hound of Love through tears of blinded eyes,
Enticing her to hug you close, embrace your racing heart,
Forgetting and forgiving all that’s tearing her apart,
Adoring, as a newborn babe, held captive by your rest,
To snuggle and invite you stay as permanent houseguest.
by Donna Frisinger. All Rights Reserved