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Mirrors
We give pieces of You back to Yourself,
so another of Your wives has said;
and she is correct
and rests secure in Your humanity.
She is a very human girl.
I never knew Your humanity,
save at a distance.
Once or twice in passing,
You have shared it with me.
But that is as it should be.
Humanity is not a thing,
that I can give to anyone,
least of all the God
Who is my mate.
It is not a thing I ever aspired
to maintain.
(Some payment had to be given after all,
to open the doors through which You
wished me to walk and I am glad
You let me choose
the coin in which I paid).
I can give You hunger,
determination, fierce commitment,
and darkest battle-rage.
Moreover I can hold these things
for You, when You grow weary
of Yourself.
This I understand.
It is at this table wherein we meet.
After all, humanity is a pale thing before
Your hunger;
and I have the secret of why You really hung,
and what You were, before You became,
and what passes between You and Your fireborn kin.
and those words You whispered to Your son,
after You claimed another’s.
It is a worthy trade, a good exchange.
I’ve danced in the Gap
and lived to tell the tell, after all.
How many can say that?
But sometimes, when the voices bound to the Tree
of wisdom, grow too loud,
and stillness of mind and heart and soul
is shattered by that which runs in Your blood,
and it all comes too fast, for me to place, to translate, to process,
and it burns so badly, even as it brings jewels
from my Husband for the coffer of my bridegift…
I envy that gift of humanity.
It is not so small a thing at all.
Someone has to hold You in Midgard,
lest You forget in Your hungers,
the fragility, beauty, and pain
of being human.
Someone else must remind You
That humanity is a small price to pay
for what You became.
You in Your wisdom,
know well how to parcel out Your gifts.
We in ours,
are grateful.
© Galina Krasskova