Stranger In My Skin

I suspect your fear may be
You can’t give yourself to me.

I can’t give myself to you.

I feel like a stranger
In my own skin,
In your eyes,
And in my own eyes.

So I bury your strength
in the garden of forgiveness
And wait for a mercy plant
To grow from the dust.

Every day until then
Is a funeral procession,
You steal all the good words
And add nothing to my name.