He appeared out of the forest:
five thousand sharp blades of sunlight 
piercing a canopy of treetops 
like a torn veil across my eyes
burning, burning until only the torch 
of his silhouette remained stark 
against a world held as still
as the silent stones of my convent cell.

What matters my wordless cries
my waterless tears, my heartless love,
my husband’s dry beard – 
I touch my lips to his forehead,
beg forgiveness, yet my lover remains
here in the invisible world he alone discovered
which I could not imagine until he touched its shore.