my heart, a high place

you told me to take up my son,
my gift,
my beloved,
and to give him to you,
give it to you.
all.
a holy fire of death is all you want.

what a cruel and unrelenting god you are.
still, i obeyed.
climbing each rock that led to the precipice of sacrifice with an certain type of obedience,
mixed with anger;
yet faith remained,
flickered,
softly.

are you just like all the other gods?
blood and fire and flesh and bones,
is that all you desire?
is death the greatest act of surrender,
of obedience,
of worship?

eternal God in ether bright,
you who wrought man from dust,
formed life from dark,
gave definition to shapeless things;
what would you desire in the body of man,
given to you?

when he is in the ground,
and i am left with an empty room,
in my house,
in my heart,
what love will i have to give to you?
what glory might you gain in uncertain darkness?

still, my feet push my body higher,
as my thoughts rage like a fire driven by man.

i reach the top,
barren and lifeless,
a place only to die.

my flesh,
my bones,
one whom i have wrought from love,
i give to you.
this is my heart,
surely,
yet more.

this is all of me.

and then,
suddenly,
with surety
you didn’t let the blade fall.

you never wanted my flesh,
my sacrifice.
you only ever wanted me,
my heart.

my heart,
full of mercy,
my ears,
opened to hear your voice,
my hands,
trained to love,
my mind,
continually set on you.

this is my sacrifice,
this is my worship.
let fear burn upon the altar in exchange for trust.
let the blood of pride be spilled out in exchange for mercy.
let death come to any act done apart from you.
for your heart is eternally a fire,
i need not make my own.

so take up my gift,
beloved and dear;
you have no need of it.
you were only ever after me.

let every moment be an altar,
every word a sacrifice of praise,
every thought given for atonement,
and my heart a high place where you dwell.