You, My Lord

You, my Lord

For still I am seeking the places you dwell:

You, uncontainable, by which the universe swells,

You cannot be set to music, nor stained

With human speech; may never be captured

In solitary temple or town: the planet your footstool,

Your beauty more than beauty –

Confluence of voice, sensation, wind, sand

And stars, underwater depth

In the blaze of forest fires; your presence shines

In running water, ever moving (ever staying);

Twilight clings to your night-cloaked name,

And still you rise in the space the sun sets.

Lily among thorns, star-silvered rose, black pines

Plunging darts in the vault,

A warmth between breastbone and ribcage

At the whisper Amen; a stream of piano notes

Like starfall in night sky, the tender undersides

Of swaying jade leaves, here where there is mourning

(you startle us like morning), here where human ashes

Fall to the ground as flowers, here where caress

Comes spontaneous and soft: you caress the comfortless

In church pews and paradoxical beatitudes,

Your words sting like sea-brine, curl sweet like

Warm honey; you are grace and liquid blessing,

Hearth-warmth and nostalgia for home

(For you without home are more than home):

You are a love and a language no one can speak,

A world of emerald ocean

That never reaches shore.

Written by Esther Ra.