El Sagrado Corazon

“Before they call, I will answer.” ~ Isaiah 65: 24

Close to midnight, and it’s raining again.
This hushed: no noisy exchange of crows,
no yellow-billed bickering of cuckoos.

All day I merely counted out, did inventory:
cups of strong coffee, clink of silverware; bread
and butter, pink and white circles of radish

on the dinner plates. Now the rain’s
a flickering curtain, blue-green outside
window glass. On my desk, an old prayer card

where a heart crimson as a globe of fruit
is ringed by thorns, gold-leafed in flame.
Imagine if I took it in my hands,

laid it on the sill or hung it from a branch.
Imagine a ripe fig washed clean by rain,
glistening for the hand that chooses it.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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One Reply to “El Sagrado Corazon”

  1. Oh, this one speaks to me. My faith has those kitschy gaudy images too, impossibly overwrought and yet so unpretending that they move you to reverence — as if they were not works of human artifice at all, but just primal reflexes of devotion. You respond to them as if they were natural phenomena.

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