Held and Not Venerated

The dog's breath hangs in frigid air for several seconds while plumes of scented smoke rise from dryer vents. If one lends attention in just the right way, one can see the sun pulling dampness off the bark of oaks. The power of light; the danger of hope.

Have you ever held a Willedorf Woman? To be venerated and not held; to be held and not venerated. When do we get to have to all? But then again, this is it, right? This, this.

In the darkness of night, sounds of the brook racing down the mountain expands into airy dreams. Apple slices served on a small plate. Watching your soft glance of searching as it becomes the wince of desire.

Working all day in the yard means dancing around April's first bonfire, alone. The wind shifts and the smoke stings my eyes. Dropping to my knees to get my bearings, I cannot escape the feeling that this is all a dress rehearsal for something else. Someone else.

I thought there was a higher value placed on making every decision together – a sense of equity and fairness prevailing – making compromise and negotiation the proof of health and well being. Yet one day you said, “I would defer all of that to you . . .” and suddenly I understood what true equality is. How can I just ignore that? Again, more questions than answers. In this poverty I take such lamenting to Jesus, who then nods towards Mary Magdalene and says, “come stay the night with us – you will find everything you are looking for.”