Tuesday, January 21, 2014

One of Many Definitions

Holiness means nothing clogs your veins: Your heart pumps clear,
clean arteries delivering fresh blood. Your muscles and your brain are fed
and watered, and all remaining thirst’s the simple unstoppable
outcome of continuous good use. Your legs are strong

from descending into valleys, squatting in tight closets, and
jumping stone to stone across wild rivers. Your hands are skilled
at picking weeds and breaking soil, even when hard beams (particularly then)
are real upon your skin, when sweat makes trowels slippery; they’re beautiful

though prematurely worn. Holiness is not a foreign land of light
and lightness, like some whispered cloudy castle
even angels cannot stand in. It is a state
expressed as well by dirt and sons of dirt as other things of God.