Romanian Grace

The dragon sits by the side of the road, watching those who pass. Beware lest he devour you. We go to the Father of Souls, but it is necessary to pass by the dragon. -- St. Cyril of Jerusalem

17 December, 2007

Thine advent here XIII

OK.  It is still pretty early in the morning for me.  Not that early, but I have been up since before 5 to talk to the uAg.  That's one of the reasons I know I love her; she is the only thing that has ever consistently gotten me out of bed before 7AM (pathetic, I know, but true all the same). Anyway, on to today's reading.  This comes from  the talented young poet, Katy Hartman.

God Felt

God’s Self poured into the form of Man—
Word to Flesh. Universe’s Splendor confined
in mortal’s shell—Son of God. Son of man.
Spirit fused with bone and

Blood. Forsook well-deserved Paradise.
Planted His feet on fingertip-molded
Globe, touched Creation and Felt:

Dirt caked between toes
and rain of prostitute’s tears swirling into mud.
Leper’s mangled skin melting into smooth
under His fingertips.

Tickle of salt-sweat tumbling down skin.
Cracked-dry tongue pleading for moisture
And scratching of vacant stomach.

Pain of friend’s death and hot tears
of agony sliding down face.
Severed Roman ear sticky with coppery blood
Then reunited with trembling body.

Nail sinking into skin and embedding
In wood beneath. Fellowship of Father
Refused. Piercing pain of Trinity

Droplets of wet gathering
on stone sepulcher thick with Dark and

Crashing of Stone shattered. Cave
Flooded with torrent of light.
Victory of Death
Crushed. Creation
Redeemed through the beams of the Son.

I mean, what must it have been like for a being accustomed to a not-physical body to adopt the sense of touch?  How did that not open up some new experience to the God for whom nothing was new?  My favorite line: Leper's mangled skin melting to smooth / under His fingertips.


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