Wild Women
You do not have to be good, the wild women say,
There’s no need to be brave, reassuringly.
How does one unlearn the ethic of one’s youth, I ask them,
That treats the body like a beast of burden
A carrot, a stick: lacerations beget nourishment,
The tears in Lent: forgive me for I have sinned
Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi,
It took me a decade to learn that God never died
As a concept, nor as a man in Golgotha
But weaved in the waves of the universe
and the winter winds
and the birdcalls at dawn
and my eyes beholding the moon on this quiet night
A totality I had not grasped
If a leap of faith is what’s needed
to trust Myself again
I’ll let the wild women guide my fall
into reconciliation
Dona nobis pacem.