Untitled Poem
She is a woman
in full possession of her power
on legs that part the sea
like word
The Word
ancient
and the earth and all that’s in it
and I
move
to keep up
She is child
vulnerable
she’s held the world
she’s held other lovers
other poets
other melodies have moved her to song
but the quiet storm of her vulnerability
is a poem
a prayer
that only I have seen
Early morning
she checks the weather
to see if the day matches her mood
and the day listens
intent to meet her
The ring on her finger is mine
the finger is hers
the hand is hers
I will be bound
in flesh
in land
in song and in prayer
in worship
hand in hand
to her
Dark psalms rise inside my mournful heart
threatening to steal
as thieves
twelve stones in the Jordan
laid by the fingers of a God
we only wish to serve
She has her face
God’s face
in a necklace
four winds rest softly on her breast
and I press my lips to those winds
and the song I sing
is praise
To her
and her God
As Ruth proclaimed
where you go, I shall go
where you stay, I shall stay
your land shall be my land
your people shall be my people
and your God shall be my God
I stand on this scripture
carved into my own breath
anointing my own candle
to offer for her
and every promise she has whispered
to God
for us
for our love
for the scripture that walks
like her legs
parting the sea
and releasing
each slave bound
to a past I can no longer afford
She is woman
She is child
She is home
And in this home
I abide
and my children
and my children’s children
shall name her
blessed