December 8th

in the room there is a fountain

the water of the word that washes clean

love carved the filigree
opened the stone
and dropped the wall

through partial sight
the cloud revealed
light shining on the water

kneeling down, we saw
minute glints of gold and supple scales,
rocks of muted color shifting
to darkened green within,
where the roots are fed.

this water winds through the trees.

long ago, I saw you in the clearing
you sat amid the shards
turned them over in your fingers

what is underneath now is stone
and roots and living things
bending in the current
the jewel green of all your water

i saw you standing on the moss
light by which there is light,
life
flesh and bone and breath,
the second adam,
the first begotten and eternal word,
smiling
your eyes friendly as a brother

when i found you again, i knew
though i love you, i could
never hold on strong enough-
never make my sight so clear as to compel
you by my flimsy works already rotten
dissolved by the wind and rain

my wings of homespun purity
could only
carry me high enough to melt
drop
the hollow of my hip unhinged
at dawn by the river
where the angel armies danced
in two companies,
coming and going upon the ladder

it must be you that carries me
limping,
dusty from the desert
set me in your arms, sealed and
finish all your works

even for one hour,
you gave us the full wage

who is this
looking forth from resurrection,

radiant from your reflected face,
clear as the sun within and
shining out,
gallant as the whole host of stars,
each a banner lifted
airs above the ground
and planted in loam,
the blade run through, turned up,
risen into tasseled heads of wheat