Longing for Wounds

O my Beloved

Where are You?

Where have You gone away from me?

You’ve sent me a messenger who I’ve learned

To love, to make Your own,

And yet I also know she brings me to You, and will,

But it is not enough for me to be given a messenger like this,

For You are still so far away I feel, even when You’re close.

If You will not kill me right now or soon, my Love,

Then wound me to prepare for me healing from Your love.

My Bridegroom Beloved, where are You where I might find You?

Stay, please, then steal me away and keep me,

Don’t abandon me like the foolish thief,

Keep me instead with You as Your possession,

Your treasure that You desire as Your own,

For You have shown me how You do so,

But still You leave me in flames, festering for more wounds,

Feeling cancerous with Your inflictions which spread all over.

Lord, my God, destroy all that I desire now, and slay all that I want,

So that only You are left over, for You cannot be slain.

Make Yourself my only desire, increase my longing by

Your piercing arrows, strike at me with Your bloodied sword,

And increase my pain so I only become Yours.

My Salvation, my only hope, my dearest Doctor,

Make me ill with Yourself, away from all sights, sounds, and other senses.

Please, my Beloved, wound me to my core,

Wound me in every place and way possible, so I bleed

And cry in pain for You!

Increase everything You are in me, but I know

You will flee, running away so I follow You,

But I beg You, do not go far away, don’t leave me in wilderness,

But lead me into the furthest reaches of the night,

So I can find You there in secret,

You, my Beloved, whom I desire to seek more and more,

To be enflamed with Your love, and to sleep in torment

So I may be more enflamed as the days and months and years pass,

So when You decide to heed my call, my painful crying for Your touch,

You will heal me with death, so I can finally come back to You,

You who lies in wait for me in Your palaces of love divine, my King,

My King who I need to be wedded to finally.

Make me Your own, wound me, kill me in the end already,

For I am and always will be impatient for You alone, or so I beg of You.