It was beyond profound
as ministerial as light on water,
as a sapling, cured of all pathogens,
bored through by a bloody thorn,
threaded with transparent love,
flung from eternity’s shores,
looping, hooping, knotting together
mud-clad, broken reeds of severed affections and tattered endeavors.
It was me, ceasing to struggle as hope gently quilted my desires,
reinforced my capacity to thrive.
Me, not asking to bring my camels,
my grain bags,
my kegs of wine or desperate strategies,
then watching The Tournament of The Untangling
from clover banks of the holy wild,
soaked in God’s expansive,