Incarnation

(Blue Madonna by Carlo Dolci - found here)

She grows

round, a slow trans-

figuration. Some days it

seems she has always been waiting;

sometimes the immanence bewilders her.

The hidden confounds her, its stillness terrible,

its movements swift and sudden, joy dancing

on her inmost nerves. She waits to see him at last,

hold him, take him in her hands, receive him.

Present now, he will then be visible, glorious

to behold, his voice a clarion heard by all.

She waits. One day he will be here,

warm and breathing, sweet

and strangely

small.

~Kate Bluett