The stuttering of your words
to myself, then, to others
is too much like reading out loud
the private anguish of a rejected lover,
a spurned suitor making promises
while threats and twisting in bed
sleepless in heaven,
insomniac in Jerusalem,
the sheets pulled out
to reconcile all the impossibles
of a heart set on romance
while our hands & feet
crawl away to begin another betrayal
so one sided the night lasts a week
before the dawn birds finally twitter
in mockery or hope or just getting up
to put on the coffee
or to check the cellar shelf for new wine.

I am burning with Isaiah’s words
with His Yahweh of naming things & nations,
giving me all His Holy One of Israel in feelings
laying bare the anguish of being God
the Maker & Savior of a people
whose sons & daughters go round & around
who always look the other way when He comes.
I cannot quote or repeat His iron words
they brand & smoke my thin skin,
heating my blood, melting my heart
by mercy, by desire so strong His thoughts
His gestures, His chariots & storm clouds
fill the rolling earth & water it right
beside the fires of His jealousy.

If romance is shyness before greatness
if romance takes a peek at beauty
then hides all His letters in a drawer,
if romance overwhelms with unworthiness
too scary for apocalyptic promises & vows,
if romance is the giving of flesh & blood
the receiving of bread & wine,
harvest & banquet beside river & blue sea,
then, you’ve won me, you've won me, O LORD.

O sleepless, Arise now and read
the words of fire & wind, of earth & water
of Cush & Tyre, of Egypt & Babylon,
of the great Nile & Euphrates, of Ephraim & Leviathan
of temples & palaces, of bracelets & nose rings.
O, how hard to look long into these words
that lie naked before me like watching
someone else have sex, a voyeur
embarrassed before perfect passion,
reading someone else’s love letters
in this dream turn out to be mine
upon waking the feeling lingers
stays before the eyes & prays back
into the visions & valleys of decision
as if everything now touched is God’s breath
on the unconscious, on these habits too
reinterpreted by romancing heaven to earth
from book to bed, from text to stomach.

Who can stand?  Now stand.
Who can write?  Now write.
Who can love like You?  Now love.
Who can Purify?  Now purify.
Who can send?  Now send me.
Your love is a coal of fire on my lips.
Your love is the best wine saved for last.

I sit at Your banquet table so lavish
show me how to use the silverware
which goblet goes with each fruit of the vine.
It is good to be in love in Your vineyard
good not to know quite what to do.
I can do a lot while knowing very little
Your Too Much is just right for my too little
for Your blessed laughter guides my silliness.
I shake my head & sit here stunned,
go ahead now & drink the wine
Yes, I can taste the fruit now
Your Lion-face is tame enough here
I think it won't kill me, your fierce beauty
warm and tender turns me inside out like a child
You Hold my hand now as I walk outside.
Look, we are walking side by side
so what if I’m trembling, averting my eyes,
so what If I can’t think of a damn word to say.
How ’bout you do all the talking for awhile?

© 2002 Daniel R. Miller