Sunday, November 20, 2011


Not god separate, high up, far away,
but body intrinsic, unseen, keenly
felt as a fresh, a sacramental
drink from an underground river,
again tied back, end to beginning,
unnameable, settled in the heart‘s shrine.
The finish of the poem is connection,
as a needle through the tapestry, pulling up
beautiful thread, not every possible thing,
but a holy assurance, a spreading revelation.

No comments:

Post a Comment

willamette writers

willamette writers

Blog Nation Badge

Poets United