Tabernacle

A tongue of fire
cleaves the chancel-curtain

of my self-imposed exile.

My Beloved now inhabits
the tabernacle of my heart.

 

Hunter or Prey

The hunter’s arrow
nicks the heart of the prey,

like the sting of a wasp.

The prey draws a shaft
from its quiver,

like the bore of a welder’s torch,

pierces the heart of the hunter.

Is my Beloved hunter or prey?

 

In Our Image

When God said,

“Let us create man in our image,”

the “us” must have been God

hanging out with a bunch

of drunken sailors.

 

Hatcheck Girl

Why do children
not carry guns

into a nursery school?

They don’t have egos
to leave with the hatcheck girl.

 

Silken

A whisper from my Beloved’s lips
soothes my disquieted heart

like silken words of Jesus
calming troubled waters.

 

Cosmic Fire

When my Beloved breathes

into the dark, dank
cavity of my heart,

love burst forth

like sparks strewn from
the first cosmic fire.

 

Progeny

The opposite of love
is not hate

but indifference –

the progeny of fear.

 

Gratefulness 

Rest in gratefulness

on the firm ground
of your vulnerability,

not the quicksand
of your perceived perfection.

 

Prowling

My soul is like a ravenous lion

prowling at night

for God in the darkness.

 

Dry Leaves

Prayers like dry leaves

are swept up

by God breathing inside us.

 

Soundings

Each act of compassion

is a sounding of the

fathomless

waters

of

God’s

Heart.