God is my foot
as I dance upon the tables
of the money changers
The tables of gold--altars of selfish gods
are altered as I dance.
Molten gold turns cents to sense
as I find myself in the presence
of the Beloved
(I like presents)
God is my hand and my body
and my being.
Whirling in the molten sunlight
I rise in joy, in ecstasy
As I too become molten, the closer
I get to the sun.
Unlike Icharus, as I melt,
I find my wings.
(dedicated to Samantha, whose youth and wisdom
are an invitation to dance)
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1 comment:
Blessed Sister,
It is a joy. Thank you for the continued reflection.
Love,
Samantha
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