V. Of clay jars and golden vessels

Love lays weeping
At the foot of the stairs;
      Sings a song,
Whispers a prayer,
Clutching her face
     With new hands.

Who am I?
Servant girl, harlot,
Empress, dove?
Shall I wear scarlet?
Bathe myself in purple linen?

O tender ewe-child
Seek not the fairness of it!
Seek not reason, neither
Seize upon your
New found lowliness.

Tender shoots spring forth,
From the untilled soil,
            In the nature of things,

At his command.

        And God heard and remembered his people.

Love lays weeping
At the foot of the stairs.
Fear not!
For he has remembered.

Outside, under the autumn bough
The thunder whispers,
       Whispers to the trees,
               Whispers dangerous, wondrous things...
Things meant only
To be carried on an angels wings.

Fear not the thunder
Whispering your name.

Who am I Lord but a jar of clay?
Am I remembering this moment?
Is it a
butterfly kiss
On the back of this tiny hand,
Or have the heavens moved
And dashed my soul into pieces?

Who am I but weeping,
Whispering
       and clutching?
And who are you
Who calls my name
        by thunder?

Are you Judgment, Savior,
Servant or King?

Love lays weeping
At the foot of the stairs,

For God has remembered his people.

Tags: poetry, cantos, annunciation