For now, we see through a glass, darkly…
1 Corinthians 13:12
somewhere between the breeze and brisket,
the lime and the laughter,
mid-heartbeat,
i realized that there are moments in which
i speak of the Poet,
but i really mean the poetry.
i have some new words,
but the struggle is old.
now i can talk about things like
sacraments, sacramentals
–and even mean it–
the divine in the mundane,
the twitching tip of a finger when
grace is more than ordinary, when
i can hear the humming Song.
at their truest, they are a communion.
other times, it seems
i’ve learned to love
how bright it all is
without turning to the Light.
“We surely made too small a part for God in these things…”
–Aurora Leigh, Elizabeth Barrett Browning
