christ is risen with each blade of grass
sprouting from the mud
we listen avidly for the first woodcocks and peepers
spring floods my body like a swollen brook
winter is almost over in Maine
that’s when the Holy Thaws
WHEN THE HOLY THAWS
A woman's body, like the earth, has seasons;
when the mountain stream flows,
when the holy
when I am most fragile and in need,
it was then, it seemed,
God, like a medic on a field, is tending our souls.
Our horns get locked with desires, but don't hold yourself
too accountable; for all desires are
really innocent. That is what
the compassion in His
eyes tell me.
Why this great war between the countries -- the countries --
inside of us?
What are all these insane borders we protect?
What are all these different names for the same church of love
we kneel in together? For it is true, together we live; and only
at that shrine where all are welcome will God sing
loud enough to be heard.
Our horns got locked with the earth and sky in some odd
marriage ritual; so what, don't worry. We should be proud of
ourselves for everything we helped create in this
And God is always there, if you feel wounded. He kneels
over this earth like
a divine medic,
and His love thaws
the holy in us.
~ St. Teresa of Avila ~
(Love Poems From God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West --
versions by Daniel Ladinsky)