fourth tuesday of advent

Come, if you will, on a Friday night,
whether or not I am paying attention.
Break me from my reverie,
rend earth from sea and sea from salt.
Separate the self and shame
showing them two not one,
then name me - the better half -
after yourself, the Son.
Come, if you will, in any form.
Preferably not that of a woman,
lest in my pride I pretend to understand you.
Lion or lamb you have been.
And as man I have loved you
both less and more than I ought -
for love is not an easy word.
Child and criminal the same,
your Spirit a dove and a flame,
water and light and the breath of life,
barefoot, berobed, bejeweled, begot.
Come if you will, appear as you ought -
only stop me in my tracks.
Still the cycle. Break the back of the beast.
Release the wolf from my mind.
Temper the time.
And whether or not it kill me,
show me your face -
swallow me like a seed into your breast
or your belly.
Bury and carry me, embryonic,
with or without rebirth -
only Come.

Comments

window in the sub

Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...

Again in Gilead

I just finished reading this for the second time last week, thanks to the forever book group of Grace. It was equally as lovely the second time around, and while reading it, I wrote down a dozen more quotes from the incomparable Ames, who is both too beautiful a man to be real and too beautiful a man not to be real. (I'm grateful and amazed to know a few like him.) "It has been my experience that guilt can burst through the smallest breach and cover the landscape, and abide in it in pools and danknesses, just as native as water." (p.82) I have found this to be remarkably true. I see it in myself, and in many others as well. "I believe there are visions that come to us only in memory, in retrospect." (p.91) This seems to be about the only way I experience visions, but because memory is a rickety thing, I tend not to trust them much. Which makes me a poor prophet. "I know, too, that my own experience of the church has been, in many senses, shelte...

So I started filing my taxes. I know, they're due in three days. Then I find that I owe. More particularly, I owe more money than is presently sitting in my checking account (or checking and savings combined - I know, a sad state). This means that I'm not paying with TurboTax online. I'm going ghetto and mailing a check, crossing my fingers that it won't get deposited until after Thursday. Sad, sad state. Let's hear it for that raise.

A Single Layer

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