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“If Creature only knew that its existence is one latent prayer to the Father....” Hans Urs Von Balthasar

The Passion of Braided Love The taste of iron floods his mouth bloodied, battered, and bruised All times are present now yet this infinite moment...

Advent in translation, means a human heart
will burst blood and water, means a body’s
gravity will pull the old moon and redemption
upon freshly carved dogwood as sorrow hangs
from his cheekbones, and a last breath unravels
self-annihilation before atonement. It means
springtime orchards and cattle, red pine
and dying cedarwood can feel their wounds
wrapped and mended. It means
two thousand years later, I will lower head
and eyes to altar bells for a God blueprinted
in my ancestors.