Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Presentation of Jesus at the Temple

To describe your entrance, we sometimes

say that you were an astronomical midpoint.

The sun’s rays spin like square dancers

around your tiny head. Your hair is the

thinnest kind of filament. Even when we

close our eyes, the heat of your presence

reaches our lids, lights them up like the Fourth

of July. For so many years, we asked for someone

to follow. We never imagined it would be you,

those hands as tiny as plums, like stars so far away.

You floated into our lives on the cloud we call Mary,

holding up her skirts as if they were the oceans

themselves. You are gold against the blue,

a galaxy born from one single explosion.

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