I invite the Unknowable in —
it hums as it enters,
and my heart trembles like silk outside corn.
I can’t see the Unknowable as it enters, can’t hear
its brass band,
but I know the Unknowable’s quiet
showers meteors inside my startled heart.
The unquestionable love digs roots deep.
It pings my heart like sonar,
testing how empty it is,
then fills my heart — no half-step measures —
and the Unknowable discovers
how restless I am.
Listen, suggests the Unknowable, that voice
within the one I’ve been waiting to hear.
I’m listening.
I wait
for a scuffed voice
quieter than sneakers on a thick carpet.
I wait for the unmistakable mist in my eyes,
my heart buckling. I am waiting
for the Unknowable to peel open my heart,
to remove any thistles. I plead,
more, more.
There’s a flame — no, a buzz — inside me.
I am thirsty for more. I’m unquenchable.
In my single-minded searching,
not once did it occur to me to wait
and let the Beloved enter me. Not once
did I suspect
the Beloved enters unannounced.
