He wraps himself in light as with a garment…He walks upon the wings of the wind.
The day I wake
I find you spoken in a thousand gleams of light
all the material, all the weight
you roll yourself and hide yourself and reveal yourself
and the day I wake I pour myself
like nard, like alabaster, like fire and water and earth and sky, I pour.
Wipe perfume with hair and I will smell like my own offering,
reek of it,
stink with it,
be overpowering, overwhelming like all the
beauty and stain and goodness and sin that I cannot sort and cannot contain
and cannot ransom and cannot redeem
and cannot shatter.
Wear shame like a garment, wear pain like a
battle-earned medal of grit and glory
and Carry On Soldiers, Carry On,
die in this sin-streaked land of war, stand
before the gates to wage the last and final insurrection but
you will all fall, all fall, all fall, all fall, and yes –
The day I wake I first find your pity.
Or maybe your love.
A thousand wind-calls. A boulder of granite slicing open my knees and
grass that pierces
and oh, yes, I see you. Ancient of Days, One Wrapped in Light,
One Who Has Known and Is
all that I didn’t know I was running from and
all that I have been running toward and
all that I have been losing myself into.