Sediment with fine pigment
turns water into paint
Iron veins trace porcelain
like blood upon a saint
Upon font laced by stigmata
humility breathes deep
for God designed each moment
each rebaptism, each relief
Sustenance that cycles through
this body, mind and soul
leaves me seated, nude and humble
a moving spirit, vulnerable
As whirlpool recedes on cue
I clothe myself and wash
Use towel draped on rack
soft-shaping out its cross
Cloth folds in twisting hands
fingers clench as if in prayer
then bend to press at palms
but the wounds are never there
God compels me with reminders
imagined and expected
leaves me certain when I finish
I shall hit the light and exit
c) C.Butler 1997
