Graven Image

by Helena Cull

I made an idol of my life –
my expression,
my activity,
my achievement.

I polished, perfected
and worshipped my creations,
failing to notice that my gifts
were a gift.

I rightly shored up
my fortress from attack,
with acts of independence
and power.

But with such armaments,
my heart was incarcerated –
all forms became hollow
and dry.

So my folly was exposed
in myriad ways,
as a ploy
of counterfeit control.

To this daughter of Eve,
then came strange relief
in weakness,
fragility,
dependence.

I am now as I always was –
adrift if not borne
on Spirit’s stream.