I was encouraged to rewrite this poem that I wrote recently:
Your body holds you tighter hourly.
Jacob wrestled the Lord’s angel.
You have your gasped breaths and throbbing heart.
This morning, your eyes bring less daylight,
and you have let go, almost, of saying.
This less of sight, less of hearing, heralds more.
Today’s snowfall blankets your roof and windows
without your knowing now, joining many here
that taught long of rest and waiting.
These small white bodies
carry downward flames from heaven,
without heat but made of fire still
that banks and burns
Your body holds closer its own light
as a treasure carried far,
carried up, soon, amid a snow that you’ll
a flame to lay down before your Lord.
[Note: here’s the first draft.]