|
God wells up at the strangest times
Through the feet, through the hands,
Through the mouth and the nose
As if to claim you,
Draw you back towards the moss,
Lower the anchor
In the ocean of blood.
God wells up in the thought
Of love sheer as a cliff,
Strangling heartache,
Vanquishing doubt.
This is how the tepid become strong,
How the frail become heroic.
The impossible infinities and gaps
Close, breach and slam.
God wells up in the cracks and the fissures,
Comes up in the pipe, the sewer, the drain,
Reaching out through the hands in the leaves,
Wracked in the shake of the addicts.
In the heart of the rain
A hurricane sadness
Gave way to the eye of
An intense blue gaze, the dazzle of belonging.
God wells up in the geysers
Of madness, the spelling of pain,
Like a blind, mute teacher,
Naked preacher without name.
Until there is no beginning,
No ending, no control.
That is when God rushes in,
Smashing all the windows.
|
