Sides

Sometimes, before dawn, it is like You and I are "this close",
eyes to blinking eyes, lips a bare whisper apart,
I can almost feel your teeth beneath my tongue,
touch the thrumming of your heart.

Sometimes.

Then morning rouses me, the moment flees. There comes again
the truth: a sheet of glass, a pane pure and almost imperceptible,
achingly thin, rising up between us...You stand on one side, I lean
on the other, looking, silent.

Still, I raise my finger, tremble, reach. For one brief moment,
I am magic or maybe it is You resurrecting a Cistine sky. We touch,
fingertip to fingertip, a quick light touch defying reality of space
and matter. As if, in that small place, all had turned to
empty air between us.

On my side of the glass, the touch has been
enough. And not enough.


"For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then we shall see face to face.” (1 Cor. 13:12) Newer translations are "mirror dimly", but the old image is perfect for this prayer.

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