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Will you still love me when I am broken and bleeding,
and will I still trust you if you do?
for I am frail, cracked, vulnerable
in danger from you and from life-
can I trust you with my secrets?
My body is whole compared to my mind,
and my flesh is criss-crossed by scars.
Love me, love my many voices;
pain, hope, despair; love me unlovable
love me when I hate you among myself.
I have too many sides to my story,
too many bridges, too many roads,
and at the centre of all webs I am broken,
and at the centre of my hope is a lie.
I bleed though saints call me to cease,
I die a little each time I embrace you-
this conflict of interest consumes me
from it I have no rest.
Love me; I seek only love and yet...
I cannot stand to be vulnerable.
Will you love me when I am broken and bleeding,
and will I still trust you if you do?
© Dubhóc MacEògainn, 2005.