are too small
to hold me,
I am so vast
In the infinite
for the Uncreated
It undoes me
wider than wide
is too narrow.
You know this well
you who are also there.
◦ note: quoted from Women in Praise of the Sacred edited by Jane Hirshfield
But perhaps God needs the longing, wherever else shall it dwell,
Which with kisses and tears and sighs fills mysterious spaces of air –
And perhaps is invisible soil from which roots of stars grow and swell –
And the radiant voice across fields of parting which calls to reunion there?
O my beloved, perhaps in the sky of longing worlds have been born of our love –
Just as our breathing, in and out, builds a cradle for life and death?
We are grains of sand, dark with farewell, lost in births’ secret treasure trove,
Around us already perhaps future moons, suns, and stars blaze in a fiery wreath.
~ Nelly Sachs ~
(Translated by Ruth and Matthew Mead, in Women in Praise of the Sacred
edited by Jane Hirshfield)
photo: taken in our churchyard’s garden