Standing next to the lectern

listening to the clear soothing rumbling

of the Creator's voice, God of that story,

thought carefully crossing the intersectionality

where lines of truth and arcs,

arches of perspective

entangle to create a visual rhythm

in which other stories

circle and circle

back to beginnings

of desire of destiny of dedication

 

Hearts are heavy objects, walled,

built sturdy to contain all the rivers

and tides of passion and joy

and sadness

that are born with each beat 

with each contraction 

borne outwards 

that one fluid 

needlelessly

shared with no one 

but child and death

that one red river

that brings the breath

mingled with moist air of others’

sometimes hot and wanting

sometimes stolen, forced outward

in concussive exhalation

or trapped

in convulsive sob

or gathered

to hit that one clear high note

which sustains and sustains us

in the moment of movement

in the exertion of intention

returning always to

the story 

read from the lectern

of desire of destiny of

dedication