East of the Jordan

You are not on the guest list
You are not watching from the front row
You are a brush and a whisper
Telling me things that I don't want to know

You are not one of my crutches
You are the life that allows me to breathe
You are the terror that comes in the desert
And while the dark lingers you wrestle with me

You fight me

With bare hands

My eyes ache

My bones shake

It's morning

I'm pleading

You break me

You leave me

You are not one of my fixes
You are the one thing I cannot let go
Where are the things that I trusted
You are the only place I have a home

You are the friend who disturbs me
Gives me a reason to get out of bed
You are the struggle that stirs me
The sound of your voice brings me back from the dead