Lectino Divina

The Word is the worm
that aerates the soil of my soul,
making space and rightness for seed.


The Word is the water
that drips patiently onto the stone of my heart,
shaping unsuspected the hollow for a pool.


The Word is the fish
I wait for with scant bait,
hoping it will seize the hook
and come home a feast.


The Word is the wing
that lifts the featherless me
into miraculous blue.