Thank You

By Christopher Ziegler

Learning to accept your love for me
Has required a leap of faith.
I cannot see why I am precious to you.

My whole life you guarded me
As a mother guards her child.
I was a thankless brat.

When I was broken you embraced me
And held me in your arms.
So I came to feel I was in your debt
And wanted to repay you.

But you wanted more.

You told me you wanted all of me—
To give myself to you completely.

I did not believe in a love like that
So you allowed me to walk away.
But immediately miseries crept into me
And I withered inside.

How can I merit your love? I feel vile.

My soul cleaves to the darkness.

Yet you were still chasing after my heart.

I open myself to you and your love pours into me.
You flood my body with waves of joy.
Your love is better than anything I ever wanted.
Your words, soft and earnest, give wisdom.
My heart swells with tenderness.

Author Christopher Ziegler 

I cannot see why I am precious to you.
All I want to do is thank you—thank you.

Mary, Mediatrix of All Graces from God 

Did you enjoy this poem? Chris has written another about Mary: The Hardest Thing

Here's another poem on Mary: The Hands of the HandMaid: God Rocking in the Cradle

The Hardest Thing

By Christopher Ziegler

Learning how to be loved is the hardest thing I’ve done.

Not learning how to love, but how to be loved.

I was a failure—an undeserving fool. 

My life was a self-made wreck.

Yet, you loved me.

I wept with anguish—and you heard me.

You spoke a gentle word and gave a gentle touch.

When you touched me—my body sang with pleasures.

You delivered me from my misery—even my extreme misery.
You have loved me more than I ever loved myself.

Years of regret you washed away.

Whole decades of regret—are gone.

All my lonely nights are only memories now.

Christopher Ziegler can be
found @CZWriting 

I wish I had a heart that could love you,

The way you deserve to be loved.

I wish I knew a way to serve you,

The way you deserve to be served.

Let me pour forth my love for you

In every word spoken, in every thought thought,

In every deed done and in every day—until I die.

I cannot forget you—I feel you in my bones.

Did you enjoy this piece? Maybe you'd like to read Christopher Ziegler's thoughtful piece:  The Sadness of Socialism