It may happen that God
comes to you as a woman
bright as an ocean
lit from below
the borealis of her arms
wisping along the curve
of space, forming
a dance of falling
her beauty turning
the cells of your body
to honey making
them foam
perhaps she discloses
that she is common
as wild grasses
and as elegant
show herself ever
after as little more
than a clutter of stars
above a hillside
a gift for you–
whose arrangement
depends entirely
on the brave upward
turn of your chin
and even now
is coming apart
~
Painting by Witold Pruszkowski (1846-1896)
