Incarnation

The year my husband died

I began to understand

the need of Incarnation.

Though love’s bond 

endures eternity beyond death,

it wants flesh.

Indeed, love needs flesh.

Though actuality annoys

in all its ambiguities

toward death’s wind-up,

ideality of anticipation

and remembrance 

are empty without incarnation,

a mere phantom figment

projected against heaven

in an image of our own making.

One cannot ignore

an other’s obdurate flesh

that defies our own ideations,

in the vulnerability of a child’s need, 

the riskiness of political sanctuary,

the messiness of love 

beyond Word 

in words made flesh

and dwelling delightfully among us.