Amrit

 

Why is Grace amazing?

Because you did nothing

to earn the joy

that simply arises

among thorns

like the fragrance of

the entangled rose

in the trellis of your ribs,

welling up from the wound

of surrender

in the shape of labia, tears,

petals within petals.

It oozes out of the dark.

Don't wait for a reason.

Just choose to be filled

with a luscious emptiness.

Hold out your tongue.

Offer the opening of your eyes,

even when they cannot see.

Taste amrit in a golden breath,

the nectar of whatever Is.

Priceless amethysts are spilling

from a sprig of hydrangea

by your ruined fence.

Wherever you are, be the host.

Serve the bold wine of your presence

to this congregation

of thirsty hearts.