For the ninety three years of my life

For the ninety three years of my life, I
fled you, Master, but now, as I sense you
draw close and can hear the blood hounds' howl, I
shall not run. I will kneel and holding you
by the knees, beg you to fold me in your
arms. And you must not refuse me, though my
life was a constant defiance of your
dominion. I know myself sure in my
heart as your rapacious arms enfold me,
doubling me over, splintering all
my bones. I remember, as you take me:
in the end, your silent love swallows all.

- Nathan Sidoli, Pengrove, 1995