R u m m y   P a r k

b y   R e b e c c a   L u   K i e r n a n


19.   Testament

Yours is the cathedral light
That dances through stained glass Jesuses,
The quiver of golden wings,
The eyes of the ivory frieze
Following me arch to buttress.
 
Yours is the silver note of the violin
Erasing the blue-black bruise of silence,
The lace white baby's breath
That buffers the violet spur.
 
Yours is the thunder
Cracking strident, stark,
Lifting the beaks of birds
Hungry in the park
Drowning out mortal words
That glitter in the dark.
 
Your hands are the baptismal of rain.
I stand naked, clean.
Yours is the cathedral light
I am forgiven in.