Wednesday, April 08, 2020

As Buddhists take fresh waters
to bless themselves,
as new Christians plunge into waters of death
to rise amid waters of life,
as a Jewish woman submerges,
three times holy, in mitvah,
before the making of love,
after seven days fasting from touch,
remembers her first mitvah:
going in a girl,
emerging a woman,

so also,
our nightly ablutions,
where wet bodies greet each other,
as rough loofa makes soap smooth over our skins,
as earth's gravity draws warm rinse down
from crowns of heads to soles of feet,
and bodies embrace,
drying between towels,
yours, mine, ours.

Wherever water is,
wherever its thirsty absence
reminds us of itself,
layers of meanings,
numbered from zero to infinity,
invite our becoming.

March 11, 2003