Rabbit Room day eleven: Together

no one knows how it began. the
way they move is a slow song
that lifts, twists and ascends
to heaven; the soft sounds to
murky depths, and it’s O God,
Jesus and holy, holy, holy. who
else knows this joy that wipes
away silence? so name it: his
hope, the lover, fear, her eyes.

 
*
 
so much depends, or doesn’t,
upon the moment. the seraphim, winged, with 

a red wheel, and a thousand eyes; the family
barrow filled with myth’s bones, your history
 
glazed with rain; a mystery hidden, then unearthed by
water, softly, then a storm, then a flood, a great wave
 
beside the white waters – all marked by a feast: roasted
chickens and other meats, seasonal vegetables, bread, wine.