like our nurse’s needle drawing rich blood,
capsuling it to test our chances; or
our surgeon’s skilled scalpel saving our good
flesh while freeing our sockets of tumors,
gently resurrecting our blind eyes’ sight;
or ancient torchbearers descending through
shafts, faithfully bringing lost miners light.
We constantly heal each other, love, true
to our senses, sharing our secret vaults
of fear and longing, faith and confusion,
doubt and delight. It brings us to this, caught
in a blessed realm of passion and reason,
an endless depth lifting our souls to soaring
with what must be angels, singing, adoring.
Roger Armbrust
December 4, 2009
