Her Corner

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound....

I heard you pray last night
in the quiet of your corner arrayed in web,
tumbling down the walls worn from airy whispers and
secret words you've never wanted to say.
I heard the rustic hum of your tempered voice in sounds
made from a thousand ancient lips of long ago, the same still
dancing on the walls of the cathedrals and into empty
graves of they who never died.
If I could see what your corner sees, at night
when the lights are tired and the ocean sings from your broken window, I
would see brown eyes made of Eden's earth and
tears like melting wax, like
glassy drops of everything that makes shame.
I would see the thumb print of the Maker's hand pressed
with claim against your nose and on your eyelids, marking
your fingertips and forehead because you belong
to Someone greater than yourself.
And if there was room for me to sit beside you there
I would give myself to your moment of deep
distraint and masked affliction- disguised by the veil of
everything I cannot know.
But please, let me place my hand upon your shoulder and still
your trembling
let me sing to you of something more, the promise you know by heart

Stupenda grazia, che dolce il suono....