Saturday, March 5, 2011

Galatians 3

We clothe ourselves
willingly in one another. Here is glory’s
mystery: the purple and withered

flesh becomes spring, all things beginning
new. Mortality is a mask
time unrepentant pastes to our faces, not a necessary
state of mind behind surfaces of mockery

and of fear frozen
in splintering wood. I am

near now. When I hear the basin
full of water in the dark and the hands
of God reaching for my feet on his knees
I am near.