When the traffic slows
and then wanes all together
when sitting at my table
can feel at once
my hearts rhythm
rising in my throat,
and the Eternal just as close.
and my poverty
and is bound
to your infinity
that all my aspirations
trudge on for naught
without your divine touch
Perhaps it was the caffeine jitters,
fingers trembling with electric skin
on that spring afternoon (04.12.2002).
Perhaps there was something so poignant
in the efforts to translate Colossians earlier that day
or in Schliermacher’s words at the table that afternoon.
Yet, when the traffic advances toward the horizons,
26th Street slips into silence.
Something in those moments became clearer:
time and space in the Divine Presence.