When God Was a Woman
There was no ink or pen
Or alphabet
No language of knowing
Just the kiss of direct experience
That mystery that cannot be grasped
That may only be
Received
The revelation of creation
Contained inside one
Single
Breath
The scripture of love
Through the swollen flesh of
One caress
No way to comprehend
Just that holy space that opens
In your listening
Just the illumination of
Receiving
Just that understanding
That is not understanding
The one that is only known in
Making Love
Just the one that is the milk of
Yearning
That is the heart of Be-ing
Just that One taste
That is the only
Taste
The one that is never
Not
Given
Pulsing with wonder
In the Belly of
Creation
No where to go
No separation
Just the swirling of her hips
To bring us home
