Bridal Chamber

“Adorn yourself as a bride awaiting her bridegroom so that you may be what I am and I may be what you are. Place the seed of Light in your bridal chamber. Receive the bridegroom from me and contain him and be contained by him. Behold, grace has come upon you.” ~Valentinus

“The bridal chamber is the Holy of Holies.... In Christ’s breath, we experience a new embrace. We are no longer in duality, but in unity.... All will be clothed in light who enter the mystery of this sacred embrace.... What is the Bridal Chamber if not the place of consciousness and trust in the embrace?” ~Gnostic Gospel of Philip

There's a feast between your nipples.
I think it's a wedding.
Powerful vows are spoken here.
The sun is betrothed to the moon.
Amazement gives thanks
as a father gives the bride.
Those who say “I do” get crushed,
danced on like grapes, and changed
into what they were thirsting for.
It doesn't matter if you’ve lost your invitation.
Just show up.
The doorkeeper will let you in.
Tell him, "I'm homeless and parched.
I only came for the last best jug of wine.”
Now this doorkeeper is God,
who is very very lazy.
All he does all day is let people in
like a mirror.
Just give him a steady gaze
until you see the ancient smile
of your own belly,
playful as the turquoise curve of eternity.
In your next inhalation, feel
the rose-gold garment of grace upon you
and enter the Bridal Chamber,
this vine-tangled chuppa under your lungs,
where you seek the kiss that Jesus sought,
the press of the Magdalene’s wild hair
upon his chest.
There’s a chalice on the alter of your breastbone,
the cup of annihilation
containing the wine of kisses.
O friend, the grail is this moment
between out-breath and in,
where clustered galaxies are crushed
and you can taste the ferment of all lips.
You say “emptiness,” She says “creation.”
You cry "chaos," She whispers "green."
You call it falling, She catches you
in a bouquet of hummingbirds.
Beneath this absence of noises
there's another kind of silence:
The throb of her fingers on the lute of your spine,
the murmur of roses in the breath of dawn,
the rattle of their thorns.
Here's the secret Gnosis all find but forget.
The Bride and her Lover are inside you.
Take off the veil of doubting, see in the dark.
Leave a solitude where they can touch,
and you will meet them everywhere:
Jesus speaking your name so softly,
the way he said “Mary” in the garden,
Mary answering in the language of herbs,
cedar sigh and dragonfly wings,
moan of the holy earthworm.
Come as you are, like any tiny creature
with giant crystal eyes,
your own entanglement of gravity and grace.
Then you’ll remember, sure enough,
it's your wedding!

LISTEN to this poem. I read it at the end of the international conference on 'Mary Magdalene and the Tree of Life,' sponsored by Mythica Foundation. The stained glass window is from Kilmore Church, Isle of Mull, Scotland.