argene

Post from KaraLynn

Sacre Coeur
by: Greta Ehrig

In the space of two
lightly touching hands

Rodin saw tenderness, prayer,
a form of holiness he called

Cathedral. What is after all
the architecture of God?

If our Creators house is constructed
cruciform, if Spirit only enters

the clean, curved coolness
of mosque or synagogue,

what about the high-vaulted
moss-strewn corridor of trees

which leads me
not into temptation but

the redemption of river
and leaves? Hail, my own

mucky body, regaled
by the scintillant light.

Tell me.
Who to love. When.

I can not hear for the multitude
singing, and in the vast and intimate

chambers of my heart,
whether Love comes as a man

or as a woman, singular or
plural, is of no concern

to the soul flown open
as a window to God.