Amina Christi (Soul of Christ)

Which is truer? To say that God is love,

or that for God, love is too limited

a term, as if an ocean were content

to curl within the confines of a cup

or drown in dust while angels sheathe their swords

and weep dry tears. This desert’s night crawls out

scorched and scornful before me, while I mouth

from cracked and wasted bones, God, give me words

to form, to speak your person, my soul’s life,

in certainty, not shapeless shadows, flow.

If words, proof, self, must fail before I know,

Lord, on each of my dyings, shed your light.

Let, rain, breath – Spirit – permeate this air

Let language become thought, and thought, prayer.