I Trust You
The soul is a newly skinned hide, bloody
and gross. Work on it with manual discipline,
and the bitter tanning acid of grief.
You’ll become lovely and very strong.
If you can’t do this work yourself, don’t worry.
You don’t have to make a decision, one way or another.
The Friend, who knows a lot more than you do,
will bring difficulties and grief and sickness,
as medicine, as happiness, as the moment
when you’re beaten, when you hear Checkmate,
and can finally say with Hallaj’s voice,
I trust you to kill me.
I trust you to kill me.
From The Book of Love
Translated by Coleman Barks
