Wine

Wine

A fire engulfs the heart.  Charred stubble for new seeds.

Your smoldering arrow is buried somewhere in those ruins.

I throw a glance over my shoulder –

to make sure You are following Your prey.

No one understands our relationship –

I, least of all.

You’ve sewn me to the hem of Your robe –  

holy thread soaked in holy wine;

                                                                                                        

in the dust of Your sandal prints, wine;

rose-fragrant wine from the garlands of Your chair

and from Your Tomb, wine –

flooding the landscape every time they open the doors.

O child of God, sometimes the Beloved fills your glass,

but the sober approach is most times required.

                                        (from The Garden of Surrender, 2004)