The Holy Dark
I remember when I moved in you,
the holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
A homeless man told me
every soul speaks a different language.
The interesting thing happens
when you learn someone else's
and you find that you're talking
Jesus, he continued,
wasn't the Christ
until he looked into Thomas' eyes
and saw his own looking back.
He called this The Science of Intimacy.
Chemistry or metaphysics?
I know that hunger in the night where
bodies join almost without waking.
An ancient call made and answered,
not a particular man and woman,
at the same time, only
this man and this woman,
lifting and crashing
in the fist of a pounding sea.
The place where self and not-self blur:
madness or sanity at last?
Sometimes the words
my tongue has lost come tumbling
from another mouth;
or a casual phrase plunders my heart,
knowing just where the key
I've felt my pulse skip
to synchronize and match another's
stride for stride.
A stranger by the spice bins calls
my true name, and the secret burns
like pepper on our lips.
the holy tramp says,
Coincidence is God's way
of keeping her anonymity.
He breaks the bottle's seal and murmurs,
For all the thirsty spirits,
silently pouring a capful
onto the ground.