I Forget That I'm Free

I forget that I’m free—

That I don’t have to return

to the shackles that bind me.

That I can leave the open cell

that held me.

I forget that I’m free—

Free to stand and walk

from the mirage that once held me

in a trance.

That, like a Venus flytrap,

coaxed and held me

with a glance.

My wings clipped,

and my insides food

for the devourer.

I forget that I’m not there

anymore.

⸻

I walk in the garden

of your mercies

and let my hand

cup the blossoms of your love.

But still—

I hear dissonant notes

among the birdsong,

and like a fool,

I follow, although it’s wrong…

Outside

the garden of your love.

⸻

Before I know it,

I’m in the valley,

or in the wilderness,

crying out like a lost sheep

for her Shepherd.

Rescue me!

I’m in so deep!

Oh, Good Shepherd, I’ve strayed!

I weep.

⸻

I sit alone,

panting,

cold—

and wait.

Until most blessed steps I hear,

most blessed voice

comes to my ear:

“I found you!”

To which I jump,

and run

into your outstretched arms.

I inhale the smell of your robes,

I tear-soak your clothes.

Forgive me,

Forgive me,

I forgot

I

was

free.

⸻

You carry me

back to the garden,

but there is no fence—

no pen to keep me in.

I’m free.

Free to love you.

Free to stay.

Free to walk away.

⸻

Oh, that you would enslave me, my God!

Oh, that I could be shackled to your love!

Because captivity to the heart of the One who loves me

is so much greater than freedom

to stay or stray.

Oh, that my rations would be the bread of your body

and the water that lives.

Oh, that my only garment

would be the white robes you give.

And that my song

could only be for you—

my sight could only see your face.

Oh, that I could be enslaved

to You, my Master and my King.

⸻

But it cannot be—

for You are a Good Master,

a Gracious Husband,

wed to the Gomer.

You chose to lavish your love upon

this fickle-hearted, unfaithful con,

who day by day still dances in your blood—

six days she forgets You,

but Sunday calls You God.

⸻

How long,

before I can say

Your mercy to let me walk away

feels like no mercy at all?

It hurts.

Freedom isn’t free when

my mind still acts bound

to sin’s captivity.

But bring me back.

Don’t let me be

lost to what

draws me from Thee.

Help me.

Let me not be so free.

⸻

But if not,

let me then disavow

every step that leads out

of the garden.

Let the dissonant notes that I heard before

be drowned

under the sound of my voice

as I praise—

Praise the One who dances with me

inside the Garden,

my Good Husband,

who gave His life

for this wretched, hardened bride.

⸻

Oh God,

let me not remember

the way her heart was wooed

by what tore her apart from You.

Let me forget.

Because here, in the Garden,

I dance with my Beloved—

and He treats me not like I sinned,

but rather calls me,

“Virgin.”

⸻

In Your eyes,

let me lose time

and memory,

as I gaze upon Your beauty

and hear Your heart’s soliloquy.

There is no blemish on my skirt,

neither inside my soul,

for Your work was made complete—

nails driven through Your feet.

And yet,

You’re dancing now

with me.

Scarred hands twirl me,

and voice that once gave up the ghost

now laughs,

sings over me

with love

that lifts me,

holds me,

makes me—

Free.

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