What ought to comfort shivers bones. Against
such love, I rail and writhe about, a child
in understanding, throwing off incensed
the gentle hands that seek to smooth my wild
and prodigal way. Your soft rebukes incite
in me a vicious silence, haughty pride
surfacing to defend my alleged right.
The length and depth of the grace from which I hide
outstrides my resolute and damning spite.
Your discipline welcomes what ought to be denied.
In light of this, my definitions ravel.
I need such discipline, such love; all else
indulges. You alone can sound the gavel,
sentence me, and save me from myself.