Worship This

For the first time in weeks, dawn contains something crisp and clean. The day rushes towards boiling, but for a few moments, deep breaths are possible. On the walk home at night, cicadas, too soon. How blood runs cold in a heartbeat.

The Magdalene begins to ooze: love that is love that is love. The truth in my body. She leans into that small door and pushes. In a siren's whisper she says, “Let us worship this; it is the truth.”

work beheld
by a sense of joy
vine of the soul
feeding us

The day keeps emptying. As heat takes everything, I feel nauseated. This sense of distance doesn't help. I hold on to the tree and pour moon water into the roots.

hold
prayer
hold

Truth in my body rises to see the Christ in you. There is no other way. And in listening to those sighs, I hear the voice of my soul. An ancient hatred fades. Stay beloved. Let us not be separated from Good.

I never knew how much I needed the Goddess. In her I wax and wane like the moon. Beauty, strength, power and will. Tell me again as you climb my thigh.

Conceive God another way. Like bees, we dance around life-giving beauty. Like honey, we sweeten light unto the tongue.

Yeshua, we need not bother with the lonely monk on the hill. Let us instead swim in the still waters, watching turtles slip into the deep.