A HUT

                                  

The name of Jesus makes
the upper and lower chambers
of my heart one cell,
one hut in the wilderness.
Ever so softly he breathes “Mary,”
and it is morning
in the garden of my body.
There are many mansions here,
yet they all become a single chamber
where No One lives.
When I shut the door
I become that No One
and the darkness is filled with stars.
I can touch you, I can feel
your tears on the back of my hand.
Believe me, friend, you are very near.
Why is this hut
in the flowering desert of prayer
a holy place?
It is inside both of us.