I walk down the aisle
Like a bride
About to receive You
Every step brings me forward
My heart wants to run back
“Wretch, wretch…”, I hear with every step.
“Go back.”
But I hear the smallest, sweetest whisper, “Beloved, beloved!”
“Go forward.”
And I receive You
After my “Amen”, weak but true.
And You melt.
Then the Creator of all,
The Might of all existence,
The One with no beginning and no end
Is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Like a wretch.
So I can see
So I can proclaim
That He is my Beloved.
Ina Malaya 