The Confession of a Lonesome Dove

A friend is fond of telling me how much we need people because they are representations of the love of Christ--in flesh. I wonder how much of a reality this is for us? Are we like the character on Lonesome Dove? forever wanting to be with the love of our life? This time not Clara but Christ. Then, again, there are times when we're just as happy not have to look into the very eyes of Jesus Christ--which is how I interpret this poem by James McAuley of Australia:

"Confession" by James McAuley

To know and feel are hard.
At times you are so much present
It seems I could touch your hand
And stand in your regard.
Mere fancies, but true enough;
And easy enough to lose,
As I abuse the moments,
And you accept the rebuff.

Small things do the hurt--
The lie vanity tells,
Malice or lust that die
Unacted in their dirt.

Bored in my self-prison,
I doubt uneasily;
But the times I get out,
I know you have risen.

[From the book Surprises of the sun]