In My Eye

A tongue of fire
rises from this candle
taller than two
others; brothers
flanking her. Their
tongues, their talk
lumine her. These three
enter me times two, then
become one in my mind’s eye.

I see my reflection in them:
flaming away I deplete each day
until I will be but one with You,
alight in Your eye – finally and fully
a human seen, as surely as
You have been a human being
aright in my eye.

Suffering March

March. How will I
ever make peace
with this
month well named:
raging and pillaging?

Not so many
days ago a tyrant, a
broadside wind
flipped over a
tractor trailer while
side swiping a few
days of spring seduction:
green pushing against the snow.

Does this
month
plot, and
scheme, sharpening
its talons and assessing
the holes in our armour.

Amore, it seems, is not
on this month’s mind,
and yet, and yet –
we hold this to be the month
when Word was fleshed in womb and so
was made to suffer misery, and beauty too.

More Flesh, Please

Ideas alone will not suffice.

We need to work our jaws on wheat
as well as words. Notions knock
at the door of touch and
propositions plead
for a taste of oven’s bread.

Light not only enlightens but also
illumines truth bare: it declares
this sag, that scar, each war waged
on the flesh and by it too.

My body will not bear
embarrassingly barren platitudes.
It wants to push against flesh,
to delight in dill’s delicacy and lime’s tang.

I cannot live in a cloud.
I ache to awaken with
skin singing and taste buds weeping –
my body knowing pleasure,
knowing God, in the
flesh.

Word in utero

Foot on bladder;
fist at rib;
each twist arrests
her breath that now attests
the movement of Word to womb to world.

What did her womb know
of the Love it cradled? Did the
placenta cheer to hear the first utterance of
the divine Word in water? Did her
spine divine the Spirit wafting hope
over primordial waters?

Word in utero;
God so loving world,
God so loving womb;
God so loving the mother of God – Theotokos – first
to know that to hear the word is to bear Love.