Myrrh and Metanoia

Dark Abstraction, Georgia O'Keeffe

I will hold this moment

as though it were a visitation

from angels fallen

out of the heavens—fallen

into grace—and crying

in noiseless symphony.

Here is my open body.

Here is my uncut hair.

Here is the drunken spiral

of metamorphosis.

Here is the ritual incense

of salvation.

Here…

do not weep

Here…

the crimson tulip.

And here…

the dried up wounds,

faceted with oxidation.

do not wax indignant

Here…

an ingress.

And here…

a perforation

in the perfection

of empty platitudes.

understand

And here, too…

prayer—seated in quietude

upon my ribs—waiting for the

lamps of the sky to be illuminated.

* Words in italics from Baruch Spinoza