By Eve Lorgen
This poem is dedicated to Barbara Bartholic.
Though my pace is slow,
And my mannerisms meek,
My head is bowed.
And I appear weak.
Contemplation of sorrows led me to the heart of grace.
Riding the fine line; a razors edge place.
A life of secrets, mockery and shame.
Threw me into the dungeon and I lost my name.
Becoming empty, a void unseen,
Captured me into the heart of the Beloved so pristine.
How could a nobody like me be your queen?
He wipes the tears from my eyes,
Caresses me with a joyful, loving gaze so wise.
“How long I have waited for you to see
that I am Thou and You are Me.
We are One, like in the Song of songs.
To and of each other, we eternally belonged.
His insistent softness of liquid love
Catalyzed a fire ablaze in my soul.
No longer could I be afraid and alone.
My breath became his breath and then I was told,
“We will prevail”.
“It is accomplished,
it is accomplished,”
The Holy Grail.