A house for starlings
Bit by bit, my love grows –
through the stone, thorns and tangle.
Spellbound by the moon
in the lake, I can’t lift my eyes
toward the true moon,
but I feel it in my blood.
By the way ... those stains
on Your sadra, are they wine ... or blood?
You brought out a rare vintage,
then shattered the bottle with the hilt of Your sword.
Grapes must be crushed before wine
can be served in long-stemmed glasses.
Thread is twisted and pushed through a needle’s eye –
now the mending can begin.
Once the gourd is hollow, it proves useful –
a musical instrument, a dipper at the well,
a house for starlings ....
O child of God, it’s a process and a journey.
Impatient one, you are right on track.
(from A Jewel in the Dust)