When the Holy Thaws

A woman’s body, like the earth, has seasons;
when the mountain stream flows,
when the holy thaws,
when I am most fragile and in need,
it was then, it seemed,
God came closest.
God, like a medic on a field, is tending our souls.
Our horns get locked with desires, but don’t hold yourself
too accountable; for all desires are really innocent.
That is what the compassion in His eyes tell me.
Why this great war between the countries
– the countries –
inside of us?
What are all these insane borders we protect?
What are all these different names for the same church of love
we kneel in together? For it is true, together we live;
and only at that shrine
where all are welcome
will God sing loud enough to be heard.
Our horns got locked with the earth and sky in some odd
marriage ritual; so what, don’t worry. We should be proud
of ourselves for everything we helped create
in this magic world.
And God is always there. If you feel wounded,
He kneels over this earth like
a divine medic,
and His love thaws
the holy in us.
-St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)



, and Lover of Words. I'm of mixed heritage (1/2 Ozark Hillbilly, 1/2 Southern Belle), I live in the Pacific NW and I love to talk about my family, quilting and country living.
The next Sugar 'n Spice Girls Quilts of Valor Corps meeting is Thursday, December 3. Email me at kz@tds.net for more info or call Linda at the Sugar n' Spice quilt shop at 360.496.6629


Beautiful.
Gorgeous poem. And somehow I missed the previous post. There are a thousand things I want to say, but I will start with thank you. You reminded me of my own journey and of lessons learned and mysteries softened. I also need to ask, are we sure we’re not twins separated at birth? The thistle thing–I dubbed my first house “Thistle Cottage,” and I’ve got thistle things all over the place. And finally–pineapples, you go, girl!