Reading the label

Reading the label                                                                      
 
The mystery can’t be put into words
but it can be written in blood; 
 
shaped by the arrangement
of certain human bones.
 
Truth walked the earth; took in the view,
Your rambunctious body upsetting the bullock cart –
 
pulses aflutter;
necks craned and blushing,
 
ears pricked up; heart-throats,
long empty, suddenly filled with song.
 
The blood of Jesus is precious
because it runs thick with the mystery of Love.
 
Reaching for the hem of Your garment –
(when You wore Your Jesus robe)
the infirm woman needed not scripture ...
 
but the soul-stirring presence of the Soul of souls
moving majestically through the pressing crowd.
 
O child of God, please understand – reading
the wine bottle’s label will never make you drunk.