In the clenches
A half moon floats almost directly above,
silent in the blue morning sky --
you have to crane your neck to see it.
O my Angel, I'm left dim-witted, spent and sore --
I've been grappling with You
for ten thousand years (!) --
ceaselessly seeking explanations;
inexorably drawn to the Inexplicable.
The cross I'm nailed to -- stretched in two directions --
is the intersection of the mortal and the divine.
When I entered the ring, someone took the stool --
there's no corner in which to rest
and in our brutal circling ... there's a loveless strategy
even in the clenches -- biding my time,
gathering my strength and resistance,
fending off your unrelenting blows.
O child of God, dance earnestly around the ring,
dutifully engaged in the battle for your soul.