Ascension Day: threshold

                  
A hill or edge or precipice,
horizon out and mystery
above, beneath, within.

Departure, limen: driveway,
pier, or gate, or aisle,
a road; and a goodbye.

A parting; sorrow, mostly
masked, and wonder.
Fear of what is next.

Riven wide enough for light,
made empty space enough
for pouring in of this:

a breathing— listen— low,
a hope, a vision, passion,
story told and still unfolding,

woven in your bones and
pouring through your veins,
and every other soul.

In all those faces, rapt
or gaping, still unknowing,
God has set a flame

not yet but soon to burst,
to shine, to speak. That’s why
Christ came, and came again:

to breathe it back into us. All
the love of God is there, now,
in your hands, your wanting hands.

The space awaits. The silence
breathes. The road an arm, a hand.
Begin.

         
         
                                 —May 29, 2014