POOLS: The Whisperings of The Waters
We vied to each be the first to touch Him—molecules
swished around by currents unseen; He came, and
John pressed him under, wetted, while our atoms
grabbed hold of His essence. Together, we
reflected the doves that descended and
alit on His crown; holy, holy, is the One.
We blushed rose-red, at the heat of
His voice, and became the wine; atoms
rearranged and imbibed. Dutiful to Creation,
our serene thoughts cooled the palates
of the wedding guests.
We bowed in reverence, as He
cleansed the feet of servants with us, waltzing
away with dust and sand, our partners, in
the basins of aqueducts; we washed
scales from a blind man’s eyes, glorious
pinpoints of sun, twinkling our
electrons in orbit.
We became as a bridge—atomic
bonds, strengthened under His feet, lapping
the shores as He passaged across; His
command, our call to order, suspending
the wave caps as stepping stones.
We became alive, and took
His blood and rushed it out, at
the spear points of the Centurions—
the veil became thin, we tore it
through, presenting life from His
rib; holy, holy, is the One,
Abba, Father, it is done.