I Are One
I and my Father are One:
one broken branch one budding bough.
one love splintered by a stained-glass eye.
One root plants me, unclasping
in a clasping earth.
Candle and blind bible, carriage, and horse,
both ditch and ladder my unburdened labor.
Two faces I have. one turns to a spiral center
where beads count prayers,
the other is as still as stone within a molten mountain.
This shadow in a looking glass
knows my Father's secret, it is a flame
here in my thicket and maze.
With His mouth he Words me,
His ears echo me,
with these crushed words He builds my temple,
empties and fills my vessel.
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