Two Views Of The Heart

You heard there was water in the old well,
but it’s boarded over, and thorn thickets grow close around it.
Cut them back. Tear up the rotted boards—
be careful of rusty nails. (All this for a drink?)
Hot dust—a shriek of wood—
and light pours upward from the well!

Your heart’s a bubble full of God-stuff.
Blow it up, bigger and bigger, till it fills your skin
and crowds you out altogether.
Then float, like a bright balloon. We’ll tie a string
to your ankle, with a little card: To My Beloved
--and then let you go.