I was that prophet-mute; that prince stripped of power and honor
Who first beheld You in that wilderness of my shame:
Being hid within flame
Like all who suddenly behold God, I fell in fear, I decried
My own sins and was given a way to approach: in the softness, the vulnerability
Of my shepherd’s feet.
You asked me to speak for enslaved
Like a feral, wounded animal hobbled by healing bands
Approached by the Healer
You caressed me with reproach, stroking my fear down
To a steadied flatness and with a promise: new understanding
Of Your Person.
I was that sunburnt piece of humanity on the side of the Mountain
Who climbed beyond knowledge as You led me:
Inward and outward ascent
An ember twirling in fire-wind, begging to see Your face, to know
you as a man knows his friend and silence fell: softness of thought:
“You will die-”
I was in the cleft; I was the Eagle’s chick with Your wing over me
Nearly burnt to death in the wake of your back
Shekinah gave way to form
In my heart, the longing to see Your Face remained, to be
drawn in to unity and made a new being: I to Thou
Ever afterwards.
I was then, with Elijah, Your I to Thou, I was a Face Fulfilled
By the Suffering God;
I’d never have guessed Your design, especially
after
As I took my eternal fill of Your Countenance and of God’s light unabashed,
Made bold with love and immanent freedom, I spoke as a man to his friend,
Of the glorious Cross.
