No, he is too quick. We never
catch him at it. He is there
sooner than our thought or prayer.
Searching backward, we cannot discover
how, or get inside the miracle.
Even if it were here and now
how would we describe the just-born trees
swimming into place at their green
creation, flowering upward in the air
with all their thin twigs, quivering
in the gusts of grace? Or the great
white whales fluking through
crystalline seas like recently inflated
balloons? Who could time the beat
of the man's heart as the woman
comes close enough to fill
his newy hollow side? Who will diagram
the gynecology of Incarnation,
the trigonometry of Trinity?
Or chemically analyze wine from a well?
Or see inside joints as they loosen,
and whole limbs, and lives?
Will anyone stand beside the moving stone? And plot
the bright trajectory of Ascension?
And explain the tongues of fire
telling both heat and light?
Enough. Refrain. Observe
a finished work. Think -
today, another miracle: the feathered
arrows of your faith my link
God's bow and target.
Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation, Luci Shaw
Lord, help my faith link Your bow and target.
No comments:
Post a Comment