It’s when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind’s shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.
This poem makes an interesting theological point about to whom the Word is sent. The Word proceeds from innocence and the gratuitious heart of God, but is intended for the hybrid human/image of god that seems lost in a self-centered delusion that is fueled by fear or unworthiness and loss of control.
Denise’s poem speaks to our unevolved state and keeps the mystery of how the Word will transform those to whom it is spoken.
It is a gem in my Christmas/Holy Days, Bob