For Thomas, In October

You are your own twin,
Didymus and Acquinas;
someday you will be whisked away
from these veils of time,
and you will ask,
and it will be made known to you,
and you will glory in the Lord
old and deep and solid.

Old and deep and solid
is the core of you, though you do not know it;
the mysteries you turn about in your hands
revolve and rotate in the tiny-huge space of your spirit;
and now, you watch and listen, wonder and lament,
though these revolutions and rotations are the natural law and no cause for despair;
the conflict is great, yet
Divinity shines and reflects everywhere.

For David, On the Occassion of an Ordinary Day

How does it happen, that energy-
come-flying, that solid, solid mass
unseen and untouchable,
the wind off the sea at midnight,
heard and felt,
known,
irreplicable?

He is it; right now I know him –
unconditional and pure – God at
20-months-old. He is squishy,
at the same time strong,
and there is nothing stopping his selflessness
save his humanity.

He has not yet two years
in this temporal, spatial world
and certainly he knows frustration –
an inability to reach bananas from the counter,
the challenges of pushing star-shaped blocks into star-shaped holes;
but these things are manageable;

unwieldy is what to do with all this love,
this overarching mode of operation:
“I want you to know how I love you.”

I know it in my bones. It is palpable. Inside and out.