‘You need only take my hand’.

he said.

‘It’s yours’.

I peer out from my monochrome shadows.

Only? I say.

Only?

Only I don’t say anything because

we both

know it is a statement of fear

and not a question.

Still I feel the warmth of his

presence upon me.

I have no questions only the

rapid beating of my heart

the rising pain that cuts at mt throat

as for a moment I am filled with hope.

He says I must only take his hand and I

can walk into a world of colour.

Only, it’s not my hand the creator wants.

He wants my blind faith.

He begs for my un-moving trust.

He pleads for my devoted love.

He wants my thoughts, my love, my hopes my desires.

He wants the sins I have lusted for to burn in the fires.

He wants my tears, my kindness, my…