Don’t Mind Me
Oh, Christopher
Christophoros
So you’re nothing
Nothing’s good
The mystics would be envious
I don’t mean annihilation
That would be bad
But death to self is something else,
I think
Because you do not go away
As if there were nothing left of you
You are woke into a different place
With people you might know
Some kind of belonging
We might call it a heavenly host
But you are retained as you
You are even loved
Now and you know before
As it may have happened, then
The death to self is prayer
So cleansed and clean
As to have nothing left but righteous intercession
Something to be gained
Such a death to self so that
There is only prayer for others
Disinterest in agenda
But the willingness to bleed some more
If like a transfusion
It might bring some living to another
This is sacrifice
Not immolation but
A gift of love
From which nothing will be returned
A love I do not understand, for now
Or the peace that passes it
C L Couch
Photo by OC Gonzalez on Unsplash
A shot I captured during dinner with my Grandpa and my niece.
clcouch123 
November 18, 2019 at 3:53 am
The death to self is prayer
So cleansed and clean
Ah. The sense of peace and the hint of struggling to find the meaning, and the surrender that indeed it is how it is supposed to be. Deep thought poetry.
November 18, 2019 at 11:23 pm
Interesting piece. A poets note to oneself? A “willingness to bleed some” sounds difficult. But, “sacrifice” is necessary I’m learning slowly. I hope for you, this process is not too painful .