When the Holy Thaws
A woman’s body, like the earth, has seasons;
when the mountain stream flows,
when the holy thaws,
when I am most fragile and in need,
it was then, it seemed,
God came closest.
God, like a medic on a field, is tending our souls.
Our horns get locked with desires, but don’t hold yourself
too accountable; for all desires are really innocent.
That is what the compassion in His eyes tell me.
Why this great war between the countries
— the countries —
inside of us?
What are all these insane borders we protect?
What are all these different names for the same church of love
we kneel in together? For it is true, together we live;
and only at that shrine
where all are welcome
will God sing loud enough to be heard.
Our horns got locked with the earth and sky in some odd
marriage ritual; so what, don’t worry. We should be proud
of ourselves for everything we helped create
in this magic world.
And God is always there. If you feel wounded,
He kneels over this earth like
a divine medic,
and His love thaws
the holy in us.
-St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)