infinite, incarnate

the sky is darkened

confined, time-bound

by a veil of cloud

only a single star

can pierce through.

so sometimes i feel

constricted, limited

by the selective world

of my own mind and

long for something

someone to shatter

my smoke-glass ceiling

so i can see the stars.

i am very small, 100

trillion cells or so,

hungering for more

than i can ever hold.

and You came.


holding to and

bending the words

You spoke to spark

the light of life

You the Word

uncontainable by

human conventions

of definition

became the stroke

of a letter

in a conjunction

connecting phrases

in a stanza of a song

millenia long.

You the Word

implanted into

a poem of Your

own writing.

yet even then

in becoming small

finite for a moment

You were not less

than You are

infinitesimally quiet

a single cell

in the dark sea

of a woman’s womb

carried by Your creation

You were still

the song that held

Your words


and You, unwombed,

singer of galaxies,

knelt in the dust

with hands that

encompass creation

like an acorn fallen

from a tree,

and raised my