Christ lived in me unseen through all these years —  
in tears and laughter, in bitterness, in wine,  
in scattered dreams, in broken freedom,  
in love I feared to give completely.

He did not enter — He has need of no door.  
He was my breathing, Light behind my back.  
I thought I was alone. I waited for  
His coming. And He whispered: "I was. I am here. I am yours."

He asked for no song, no shining,  
no temples, crowns, no spotless deed of mine.  
He waited until my schooling passed,  
till I came without an "I." And He beheld.

Not I unveiled to Him — it was He, in hiding,  
who showed me there's no "later," no "not now,"  
that all that broke me, all the pain abiding —  
He passed through it Himself. And became in me — Christ.
