Yahweh
those metaphors
hung in the mist
I am the way, the truth, the life
heavy with impenetrable darkness
in the swirling chaos of love lost
he burned a poem
spoken like the sea
the tears wept
in Martha and Mary's grief
the breath that pulled
Lazarus back from death
to eat the funeral feast
the bread
on the table
the body
that tasted
the wood, the nails that bound
the vine
crushed into the cup
the wine
bloody sweat
of a shepherd
over lost sheep
the gate
opened by the prodigal's father's reach
the sweet perfume poured
on the wounds from the road
the body
bent over the basin
the water
to wash feet, to give drink
the gold offering at the inn
to hold a beaten man's place
so the debt passes over
into the impenetrable garden
the way and the light
shining through the hole in his hand
those metaphors
hung in the mist
I am the way, the truth, the life
heavy with impenetrable darkness
in the swirling chaos of love lost
he burned a poem
spoken like the sea
the tears wept
in Martha and Mary's grief
the breath that pulled
Lazarus back from death
to eat the funeral feast
the bread
on the table
the body
that tasted
the wood, the nails that bound
the vine
crushed into the cup
the wine
bloody sweat
of a shepherd
over lost sheep
the gate
opened by the prodigal's father's reach
the sweet perfume poured
on the wounds from the road
the body
bent over the basin
the water
to wash feet, to give drink
the gold offering at the inn
to hold a beaten man's place
so the debt passes over
into the impenetrable garden
the way and the light
shining through the hole in his hand