Yet and Still

I dreamt of you last night
that for some reason you were in town
in my bed actually
and when I put my arm around you and held you
you cried
because I still felt that way about you and you
you felt undeserving.

Across the room you moved, thinking I'd reject you.
You told me of all the people who violated the sacredness of you,
that they'd never been willing to give you anything,
that they'd never committed and only taken from you.

You asked me what I still saw?
Why I was still willing?
and I said the very same thing I'd always seen
and that God told me to wait, so I did.

You came back to bed
gingerly taking up residence in the space I'd held for you all these years
and then you whispered to me, or maybe to God
"I'm finally ready."
And it was my turn to cry