Why Are You Awake?
Why are you awake at 3 a.m.?
To make a home for the wandering angel
of this breath.
To hear the name of the Friend
in your heartbeat.
Why do you say, I am not this body?
There's a garden in your chest
where the sun and moon touch,
twining their gold and
pearl-white beams around a tree.
The tree catches fire.
From your belly to your crown,
seven blossoms, coral, crimson,
viridescent blue, other tinctures
too soft to name, songs without words.
And a chuppah made of clustered vines
beneath your rib cage,
where Christ meets Magdalene.
You are the priest of silence who unites them.
Their wedding is why you are awake.
Please don't say, 'I am not this body.'
Each atom of your dust is
nothing but the light
you've been longing for.
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