Let There Be Light

Genesis I, iii

Obscurely the spirit stirs;

The unseen life is heard,

Breeding in the mud of the river

At the feet of the church,

The priest in spreading surplice

Proclaims to all the earth;

Worm, fish, and lizard

Ferment in mindless birth.

We come here as a pilgrim

Searching our father's roots;

These gnarled and severed trunks

Were once good yeoman's wood-

Lithe bow and singing arrow,

Staff for the holy road:

The gnarléd wounds are green again,

The kings have still their growth.

The king, our ancestor,

Was stripped of his shining attire,

Was shaved in puddle water

Like a beast beside the way,

That no man might know his face.

We move from stone to stone;

The flesh hangs in rags from the bone.

But there was one who arose

And fled into the wilderness

And made of a woman's robe

Covering for his nakedness,

That all men might know his faith.

Densely the willow shoots

Bristle from the limbs

Of the martyred saint;

And with the coming of the wind

Send trembling music

Into the hearts of living men.

The great trees sway and grieve

As though we were undersea,

Ages and layers deep

In the sifting sediment,

Where Death in his elegance

Smiles up with gritty teeth;

Reaches, seems to speak,

'Come lie with me

And close thine eyes~

But the spirit Godlike rises

Upon muddy feet and hands,

As Christ in His blood aspires.

We stand upon the bank

Before a world of light:

Each gleaming leaf,

The flowers feeding in the sun,

Our human face raised in love,

The perishable tissue

Transfigured, infused.