Untitled Song (You Cannot Serve Two Masters) Poem by Zoe MacRae

My grip is weakened by long months,
A long winter of holding on.
You looked into eyes that could not keep meeting your gaze,
Told me to let go of those empty promises.
Your voice was clear:
'You cannot serve two masters.
You cannot hold my hand in one of yours,
And hold an idol in the other.'

As all my little gods betray me,
I remember prayers of happier days-
I told you, 'Make me holy, whatever the cost, '
Said, 'I want to be like Jesus! '
I thought I could hold onto these idols,
But it was like grasping wind;
Now I'm left standing alone before you.

You are a Dangerous Refuge;
Before your face I fall on mine.
I have no strength left to fight,
I run weeping into your embrace.
I cling to you, weak as I am;
You speak to me gently:
'I'll let nothing separate you from my love-
for I AM. I AM. I AM.'