Hymn
Messenger
In that space where he fluttered inside you
(and I when I say him it is not so much
about gender or form, although I know
no other name for him than Gabriel),
the seraphim who rested his wings
waited in your belly and whispered against
your innermost ear the secrets that you
were, for so long, too afraid to know-that
you were good, not merely good enough,
but absolutely deserving in a way only
the intensely faithful are; and the universe
was replenished with your understanding,
the world finally grew large enough to
accommodate his joyful soaring, too
divine for human eyes to bear, trumpeting
your true name-mother-in a thousand
languages across every sky that ever existed.