something else from someone else

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads
Of her life, and weaves them gratefully
Into a single cloth –
It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
And clears it for a different celebration.

Where the one guest is you.
In the softness of evening
It’s you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,
The unspeaking center of her monologues.
With each disclosure you encompass more
And she stretches beyond what limits her,
To hold you.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

I met this poem through a mutual friend about three years ago. As she spoke the words to me, I touched the hem of its garment's passing tassels for the very dearness of life. And perhaps, as it passed by, some healing power flowed out of it. Was it her voice, or the words themselves that spoke to the baby Christ that was being born inside of me? Or the baby me being born into Christ. Out of reverence for that birth and new life, I fall to caressing the weave again, pondering all that has taken place since then and wondering at what is to come.

Arise, my soul! Shake off your dusty knees. Prepare to meet your lover by awareness of your loneliness, a cultivation of the space "aloneness". This is your gift of hospitality. Look, here he comes, leaping on the hills! See, he is coming soon, and the clouds are as the dust of his feet as he walks by! Perhaps today...

Today, I feel life welling up from my innards as deep calls to deep, glowing sun to molten core.

Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your heart...