Waiting on a Miracle
Will wine ever flow despite all the vinegar in my veins?
I know it shall arrive, the balm, whatever its welcoming face,
sure as all anointing oils, sure as all the saints who return to my door.
I am blessed that this old, bold hope endures. With hope, even now is joy.
So it is I sense the imminent cure, and I shall wait this way, even now,
this stay as splendor, yes even now, here near as all heaven rises
from a trace of swirling lavender somewhere within this skin of alabaster.
Joe Bisicchia writes of our shared dynamic. An Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for Mystical Poetry, he has had his work featured in numerous publications. His website is www.JoeBisicchia.com.