(Et toi, que réponds tu à l’amour?)
As with Mary,
it was the sound of angel wings
that broke the silence.
My ears rung with gold,
I felt fire sprouting up from
the dun earth.
Light spilt over the green valley—
on my head a warmth
settled, and began to spread.
I heard the sound of beating pulses
between bird-notes, heard
the sound
water makes falling
from a clay pitcher,
felt my blood running
warm in my veins,
and then He came.
Do not ask me why God
seems always to whisper His wisdom
to women too young to keep secrets.
This slow coming alive was a burning,
God’s red-flaming touch
on my heart.
I heard Him come and settle in the fields of France,
heard Him ask,
“With what will you answer My love?”
